


When The Sun Was There

by PonyRunRun



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Drug Addiction, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Nct is basically like a gang, Romance, Violence, but not exactly mobster like, but they fuck up, chensung are little fucks but we love them, gang leader!Taeyong, like sad kids, not mean, street life AU, they all a band of bad guys, thieves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-05-02 16:43:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 91,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14548998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PonyRunRun/pseuds/PonyRunRun
Summary: “I feel as old as you” he says simply,with no heat to it.The cop frowns, rubs his forehead, probably used to snotty brats like him. Sicheng is not a snotty brat. He's just a kid, sad like the stones, smeared in blood and with a hollow look in his eyes that he will never ever fill again.“Sicheng. My name is Sicheng” he says to the man's surprise as his mouth was already open. But Sicheng's voice is suddenly very soft, softer than before. Like in a dream.My name was Sicheng.Or; 20 years old Sicheng is depressed from his life as a foreign student in Seoul. The day he meets Taeyong and Ten at Ten's hair salon seems then like a life-changing event, and for the better. Taeyong introduces him to the group of lost kids he leads and Sicheng slowly moves from his dull one-room flat to the disaffected building where they all live as a community. Things finally fall into places until they all mess with the wrong guy. It's too late for Sicheng to backpedal when he realizes the mess he's set his foot in. He learnt afterward the sacredness of time, how important it is to hold violent things in their softest moment. But Sicheng is young. He's too deep in for Taeyong, and Taeyong is too far gone to make it back.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hi, Pony's back. I've wanted to write this story for quite a while but I couldn't seem to make it happen. But I guess it became dear to me as it's been on my mind for over a year now. I hope you'll like it and I apologize for the mistakes. English is still not my native language, but I grew more comfortable chapter after chapter !  
> Anyway, enjoy !  
> [WARNING EDIT] this story will brush the topic of eating issues, but most importantly : graphic depiction of violence, bad influences, thievery, toxic relationships, hard drug abuse and addiction. Process with care, it's worse before it gets better.
> 
> Love, Pony.

this story has a pinterest [board](https://www.pinterest.fr/satorvska/when-the-sun-was-there/).

 

 

Sicheng's breathing was even. Everything seemed to burst around him, people running around, phone ringing, doors opening and closing. Sicheng was sitting and perfectly calm. He did not know where he was or what he was doing there, but it almost seemed fine. Nothing had happened today. What had happened today ? Honestly, the thought almost made him frown. But he couldn't frown. It made him want to frown even more. It's as if the skin above his eyebrows had shrank and couldn't be moved anymore.

  
Mark was nowhere in sight, but Sicheng couldn't remember why he was not looking for him. He wasn't looking for him. Nothing had happened today.

  
He scratched his forehead, blinked a few times as dirt fell upon his eyes and exhaled silently. The ruckus around slowly made it to his ears, he blinked again and his attention fell on the clock hung on the wall in front of him. He couldn't hear the tick tocking of the device, yet he couldn't stop looking at it.

He knew somewhere what he was doing. That looking at a clock was easier than actually considering what is around. There are clocks everywhere, it doesn't mean anything. As long as there's just a clock he can be wherever he wants.

Sicheng breathed through his nose. Someone tapped on his shoulder. A man probably, from whom he could only see the big black shoes dirtied by time, long blue pants, too large, splattered with droplets of rain and mud. Black stains also, and tiny shiny red spots. Sicheng looks up at the clock.

The underwater-like sensation Sicheng was feeling so far is violently broken, like two hands pulling up out of the claustrophobic darkness as screams erupts from somewhere. He tears his eyes from the clock as the waling keep going. He searches haphazardly for the origin of the voice that he can't recognize. Yet the boy that is being thrown in the office is well known. Sicheng follows Jisung writhing, throwing and trashing all around, mouth wide open and eyes shut hard as he tries to escape from the six hands that almost carry him to a different place. Sicheng gets up, wobbling on his weakened legs, still following the screams, eyes fixated on the corner where Jisung disappeared, his voice the last remnant that everything was not but a dream. Sicheng can't fathom what is going on. Never had he ever heard Jisung's voice like this. The far cry that emanated from the boys juvenile mouth was foreign. It was not his tone, it was not his words.

He doesn't bother to protest when he's being manhandled from the bench he was standing next to to a smaller room. Probably that they don't want the rage withing Jisung's body to spread to the whole office.

Sicheng sits on the wooden chair, almost obediently if it wasn't for his total lack of attention. He doesn't even put his ends on the table, he just keeps on picking at the skin around his nails. That's because the skins are tearing that he's bleeding. He couldn't explain the blood around any other way. He sneezes on his hand, cleans up the blood that clogged his nostrils without thinking about it.

“ Name.”

Sicheng looks up for the first time, studies the man that sat in front of him, then lowers his eyes again.

“Name” the man repeats higher.

Sicheng doesn't shy away. He doesn't look up.

“Winwin” he answers with no heat, like an evidence.

Then he frowns. The action make the medium that dried on his forehead to creak and hurt. He put absent-mindedly his finger on it then inspects as his finger returns a dusty brown. Red.

“Gotta be shitting me kid. Name and ID number.”

 

Sicheng's eyes drift to the left, he looks at the computer the man is typing on with frustration. He looks at the desk lamp whose light casts aggressive shadows on the corners of the room. He looks at the files, half filled, some more than others, sometimes with pictures. Ten, Mark, Taeil, Yuta...

“You're legal kid. And with what we have on you and your friends, you could have it for years.”

Sicheng looks up at the man and just sees a warred middle aged cop who's tired of his job but also must love his job and that's probably the conflict that marks his skin with deep wrinkles.

“I feel as old as you” he says simply, not really conscious, not really there in the room.

The cop frowns, rubs his forehead, probably used to snotty brats like him. Sicheng is not a snotty brat. He's just a kid, sad like the stones, smeared in blood and with a hollow look in his eyes that he will never

ever fill.

“Sicheng. My name is Sicheng” he says to the man's surprise, his mouth already open and ready to retaliate. But Sicheng's voice is suddenly very soft, softer than before. Like in a dream.

_My name was Sicheng._


	2. Chapter 2

Sicheng was 16 he arrived in Korea. He moved on a little cottage on Jeju Island with his mother who made diving of a living. They had fled all the way from China after she divorced from her husband, and Sicheng had stayed by her side, naturally shy, a bit too tall for his age, and unable to communicate with his peers. After reflexion, Sicheng realized that it hardly could have been any other way. But once again, it was easy thing to make parallels around what had happened years before. Taeyong probably would have told him not to be so pessimistic, and that actually, things could have been different. It's just that all the items were lined up for him to snap. And so he'd snapped.

 

At 19, Sicheng's mom sent him to Seoul to get in a better university as there was none on the Island at that time. The Chinese boy had lived it like a betrayal, but at the same time, wanted to bath in his new freedom. He was still too tall and had still troubles keeping up when people speak fast, but he could make himself heard and could understand most of the things going around.

That's how he arrived in the capital, his bag slung on his shoulder, his long frame standing still before the door of his rented flat. It was in a low-budget building, with both university students and people who could hardly make it to the end of the month. Mostly the latter though, so Sicheng shamefully felt a bit out of place. He still made it a home, even if the living-room-bedroom-kitchen room and side bathroom was a bit more cramped than his country house in Jeju. He could get used to it, and the scenery from the tiny balcony where he could only make his drying cloth fit wasn't that bad. Everything was fine. Sicheng was very out of place and very lonely.

 

When a month later, Sicheng pushed the door of this hairdresser down town, he was not expecting to change his life forever. The Chinese man stood like a fish on the sand, banding his fingers in his sweaty palms, almost dancing from one foot to the other, as he faced two men chatting softly in the back of the room. It was a very small hair salon, with only two chairs for cutting and one bucket to shampoo, and so the man seating on one of the two chairs made the place shrink even more.

“Wow Ten. You might not eat rice tonight.”

Said Ten smacked the pink-haired boy sitting on the chair. The former hushed his friend out of the chair and pushed him on a couch on the far end of the room, just under the window, where he stayed obediently, a cheshire grin on his face as he took a magazine and started reading.

“Forgive my friend, please have a sit !”

Sicheng was even more embarrassed and walked on wobbly legs to the bucket when the pink haired spoke again.

“ You didn't tell him Porn”

Ten, Porn, or whoever he was, already had his ends on Sicheng's wet hair when he said with a half concealed laugh :

“I'm still in training, but don't worry I got you”

Sicheng had never been scared like that day.

 

In the end, Sicheng was fine with his hair, even though this Ten had kept on talking to him about _bleaching that hair, how about a nice blonde_ but Sicheng really had just wanted a trim. Really Really. Yes he was sure. Thank you very much.

His university year was almost over he couldn't wait for summer to come. Sicheng actually loved summer. Days were longer, sun was up, weather was nice and warm, and he liked it better to sweat his ass off rather than die of cold with his frozen nose falling on the ground. Rain was his worst enemy, he hated autumn with a burning passion and couldn't get why people made such a fuss about it. Days are getting shorter, weather is worsening, school was starting again and all the nice ass leafs everyone said were so pretty were actually red for two days, then, fell everywhere on the ground, and because it was raining, the sidewalks turned into disgusting slippery places.

“could you stop grinding your teeth please ?”

Sicheng closed his mouth and stopped thinking about autumn or leaf or sidewalk.

“I can.”

the girl next to him threw him a dirty glance. That was one of the reasons why he had about no friends. It's not that he was mean or bratty. It's that he was _not_ Korean. Asking him such a rational question just resulted in an equality rational answer, because it was more practical. And he sounded rude.

Sicheng sighed and put his head down, looking at his textbook, the letters dancing around his eyes without him making anything of it. Korean's alphabet was one of the easiest in the world. Way easier than his own. He could read, he just didn't get the meaning behind any of it.

Sicheng was tired, clicking his pen, making it turn on his fingers, writing in Chinese on his sheets, feeling homesick without being able to tell if he misses China or Jeju more. He was conflicted. He probably just missed his mom, and so in his head Jeju was China. In the end it was home.

He was behind on every class, not even that he was stupid. He just wasn't very scholar, knew things but was not very friendly with school's way of making an essay, and thus always ended up having poor grades. He tried reminding himself that having bad grades doesn't mean you are dumb, but it was harder to believe himself day after day. So he started skipping class. It was just little nothings like this. Not being able to get up one morning and blaming it on finishing his essay too late the previous night. Then feeling a headache growing and leaving school before his last period. And slowly but surely, falling in a pattern where “I only skip once a week” and not feeling like it's bad anymore. It became a necessity. Sicheng was apathetic, his tongue heavy along with his head, his eyesight dropping and his centers of interest shrinking to almost nothing. Because he was spending more and more time alone, his Korean dropped drastically, and so almost every of his human interactions vanished. He couldn't stand himself., he needed some fresh air, but feared to open the window and end up on the pavement five stories down. Sicheng didn't want to die at all. He was just very sad.

That's how he found himself before the hair salon, his wallet in his hand, a bag of groceries in the other. It was not expected and yet it felt like he had planned it all along. He pushed the door, the bell rang, and the two familiar figures turned toward him. He hadn't went to this hairdresser since that first time, only dropped to the one closer to the university, but his hair was growing like a jungle and Sicheng had had a sudden punch in the face while seeing his reflection in the refectory.

“I need a haircut.” he had said with his best efforts as Ten and the pink haired guy eyed him skeptically.

“Your head is losing the war” Ten said, as he turned his back on him and started rummaging in a drawer as the pink haired got up to sit on the couch, his skinny legs bent under him as he took yet another magazine.

“Could you dye my hair ?”

Ten stopped rummaging.

“Taeyong, go get my the bleaching cups”

The pink haired man finally received a name, and got up, fleeing to an adjacent room hidden by a door's pearled curtain. Sicheng liked the smell he left in his trail.

“How much is it ?” He asked and opened his wallet, showing the money he had for Ten to count for him. Won was still a bit of a mystery. The Chinese boy was bad at math and changing money value was a hit on the back of his head. Ten seemed trustworthy and looked at the money, counted it, then put some back in the wallet before admitting :

“You don't have enough dude.”

Sicheng looked like a kicked puppy.

“But it's fine” added Taeyong with a soft voice, returning from the back room with his hands full of products, brushes and cups to mix things up. “you can do a few things for us.”

as Sicheng opened wide eyes, a bit worried, Ten put his small hands on his shoulders and made him sit down to start bleaching.

“Just like running errands ? We are hungry, could you make a run to the chicken place two blocks down and bring us food ?”

“Now ?”

“Unless you want to go downtown with a towel on your head.”

Taeyong was laughing obviously, but Sicheng got up and accepted the paper Ten gave him with their usual order written on it.

“Come back quick ! The dye will be ready. What color do you like better ? Else ten will cook you a green”

Sicheng cringed “Brown.”

“He said brown !” screamed the slender man while pushing the Chinese boy to the door.

“Brown ?” whined Ten's voice.

The door closed on Taeyong' melodic laugh and Sicheng headed to the place while trying to read the notes on the paper. He managed, but he still gave the paper to the girl on the counter and waited on a chair while she was wrapping everything together.

When Ten opened the door to him twenty minutes later, he was alone in the salon. He made Sicheng sit and started working around his head, talking to him not to make things awkward. Ten didn't come off as the shy guy, but without his friend, the place seemed a bit bigger, and Sicheng tried not to think about it.

“So where are you from ?”

“University.”

“I mean. Really from.”

“Oh. Zhejiang.”

“I have no idea where that is.”

“It's in China. South from Shanghai. It's on the east coast.”

“hmmm.” Ten makes a sound of approval, and Sicheng gets that the hairdresser actually visuals where it is.

“You've been here for a while ? I mean before you came first here of course.

“ A few years. But I... in Seoul ?”

“You moved this year ?”

“Yes.”

Sicheng wasn't feeling as bad as he thought he would had someone told him he would have to hold a conversation with a hairdresser. Ten was really honest, when he didn't know something he asked for an explanation, he seemed quite understanding and never judgmental when Sicheng made mistakes, correcting him only when the Chinese boy was asking for help.

“I feel bad when people correct me every two words” He admitted after some time.

His head was half covered in aluminum foil and he looked like a very cheap impersonation of Gorgon.

“Me too” Ten chuckled as he combed his way to a new lock to bleach.

Sicheng frowned.

“I was born in Bangkok.” the older offers with a coy smile.

“Really ? Your Korean is so nice” Sicheng might sound a bit jealous. He really wish he was better in language class, but it had never been his forte.

Ten was about to answer when Taeyong bursted through the door. Ten looked at him through the mirror in front of him and his jaw was tensed. Taeyong almost imperceptibly nodded toward him and Ten went back to business as if nothing had happened. The pink haired man flew to the back curtained-door and rummaged for a while. Sicheng was a bit tensed, as the mood had dropped for such short span of time, but when Taeyong came back, he rushed to the table where Sicheng had deposited the chicken order and opened it, digging for his box before throwing himself in the couch.

“So brown” He said between two mouthful.

Again, Ten emitted a non-committal noise, looking unappreciatively at the mixture on one of the cups he'd prepared.

Sicheng chuckled closed-mouth, lowering his head and Ten cooed above him, raising his chin from behind with his gloved hand and effectively smearing dye on his cheek.

“You should get a hair-cut more often” The Thai said when he finished shampooing and cutting Sicheng's hair.

“You should a hair-cut _here_ more often” corrected Taeyong who'd finished his ridiculously small order and was currently busy feeding Ten and trying not to drop any food on Sicheng's new silky brown hair.

The later was a bit embarrassed and wondered if the two were a thing. He'd never been around men so openly affectionate toward each others and he didn't know if he should ignore it or ask about it. The last thing he wanted was to seem rude or to poorly read the situation. Ten and Taeyong seemed to enjoy his presence and he surely enjoyed theirs even if he felt like third-wheeling or being in between a friendship that was beyond his relationship to the two men.

Sicheng laughed, embarrassed and bending a bit two much on his way out of the salon while Ten was shooing him out to clean. Taeyong smiled to him as he closed the door and Sicheng went home with a lighter heart. And a lighter head.

Even if for an evening, the dull feeling of his self-depreciation receded on a small part of his brain. He stood in his one-room flat, window open for the fresh air to mess with his shiny hair as he sat before his mirror. He looked at his reflection most of the night before dragging his tired but contented body to his futon, the tune playing in the hair salon stuck in his head.

_All we are is dust in the wind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't forget to kudo or comment !! thanks !


	3. Chapter 3

Sicheng bumped into Ten one more time within the next week. He waved awkwardly from his side of the sidewalk and made a bee line for the nearest coffee shop to avoid any embarrassing encounter, and – as he liked to tell himself – to finish this paper due for Wednesday.

Any other way, his life fell back into the same kind of monotonous pattern were nothing is unbearable enough for him to complain to anyone without sounding whinny, and nothing is interesting enough for him to keep his two feet on the ground. He kept his slow dissociation, getting up about three days a week and going to half of his class. No one talked to him anymore, as he was not very talkative either, and anyway, he was not able anymore to make a sentence to talk to any of them.

That's why when he crossed path with Taeyong in that chicken place down town and the man greeted him in Chinese with a heavy Korean accent, Sicheng just felt his face split into a smile.

“Hi” he stuttered back, still in Chinese “So you started learning Mandarin ?”

Taeyong's face drop

“Man I have no clue what you said I just learned how to say hello.”

Sicheng caught himself laughing, then Taeyong followed and they finally ordered food and started eating on one of the tables near the counter. After learning more about Ten from last time, Sicheng was glad to get to know more about Taeyong. From up close, the man had very thin features, pitch black round eyes, aquiline nose and cupid bowed lips shining probably from lipstick. His skin was glowing with his natural warm melanin and his pink hair fell on his forehead and before his scared eyebrow.

“How did you” Sicheng asked and mimicking a cut before his own face.

“How did I get this scar ?” Taeyong asked after swallowing and pointing at his dyed eyebrow.

The Chinese man nodded, putting his food down his plate and scouting a bit further as Taeyong lifted his bangs to show it better. Sicheng concentrated his stare on Taeyong's eyebrow not to start drifting away. The white line that cut his eyebrow was visible with the sun hitting the window right behind Sicheng. He also spotted another one under the pink haired's eye. A round scar that he couldn't explain to himself.

“This” he said while pointing at his eyebrow “is a miscalculation of the mind. And this” he pointed at his other eye and at the round scar “is a poor life decision.”

Sicheng was not really helped by any of these answers, but he didn't push the matter any further as the door opened and two hands slammed on their table. Sicheng jumped on his plastic chair, grabbing his order for dear life and looked up to see a grinning Ten. The Thai boy slide on the chair next to Taeyong, scouting him a bit to his left and took a fries from Sicheng's plate en popped it in his mouth.

“You paid already ?”

“Not yet” Taeyong answered while dumping more of his fries to Sicheng's.

“Don't” Ten warned and looking exaggeratedly into the pink haired's eyes.

Taeyong shrugged as his friend got up, his share in hand before leaving the place.

“What is it that he doesn't want you to do ?”

Sicheng was surprised by the easiness with which the words came to him. Taeyong just winked at him before standing up too.

“One more serving please !” he asked for the girl behind the counter who nodded before busying herself with the food. “I'm going to smoke, a bit, you coming ?”

Sicheng frowned, almost pointing out that he never saw Taeyong smoking. He didn't have the time to add that he didn't smoke before being dragged out of the shop.

“You took your bag ?” the Korean one asked

“I don't have a bag” Sicheng shrugged, looking at the opposite sidewalk.

“Good”

That was the last thing Sicheng heard before a hand caught his arm and all he remembered afte that is the vibration along his leg as his feet hit the ground, the wind on his face, adrenaline pumping in his veins like summoned by a fighting heart.

“Taeyong !” he screamed frightened, trying not to stumble down as the older one was dragging him mercilessly behind him.

“ What ?!” Taeyong screamed back, and Sicheng heard the delight in his voice.

“We didn't- We didn't pay !”

'”Then don't stop running !”

Sicheng didn't stop. With some insight, after that exact moment, he never stopped running.

They arrived a few minutes later at the hair salon. Taeyong's fingers were still clawed around Sicheng's cuff when they stopped at the door, trying to catch their breath before getting in.

“This... This is what Ten... doesn't want to hear about...” Taeyong heaved, a smile on his face.

Sicheng was bent in half, his free hand resting on his knee. Now that the urgency had faded, he became strangely aware of Taeyong holding his arm. It was not like holding hands, but it was the same kind of warmth prickling under his skin. Sicheng was about to move slightly so that their palms would touch, just to see, just to try, when the older let go of his limb to open the door.

Ten was busy doing a perm for some old lady so Taeyong sat on the couch and Sicheng followed, sitting on the other side of it. As he expected, he took a magazine and bent his legs under himself, his shoes forgotten on the floor.

Sicheng didn't know what to do now that he was here. Obviously he was invited, since Taeyong had brought him here and opened the door for him, but now that he was there, he felt out of place once again. Ten was in his environment, it was his salon. Taeyong was Ten's friend ? Best friend ? Cousin ? Honestly, Sicheng didn't know. But the point was, they both belonged here, and Sicheng not.

“Look at that. It's ugly no ?”

Sicheng's attention was brought back to Taeyong who was holding him his magazine and pointing pointedly at something. Sicheng scrunched his nose and Taeyong nod his head with approval before resuming reading and taking his spot back to the end of the couch.

“What do you read ?” The Chinese boy asked, trying his best to make small talks.

“A magazine” the other replied while chewing his bottom lip, not casting a glance at him.

Sicheng didn't feel like it was condescending. Taeyong didn't happen to be like this. He was just reading, but he didn't know what it was, and he didn't care either. It was just a magazine. Sicheng decided that he didn't want to just be a magazine. He wanted for Taeyong to remember his name, his content, the things he likes and dislikes. It was not easy thing to catch Taeyong attention. Everything was like his magazines. He picked them, put them back, took another one, read a few pages, enjoyed it for the time it took but forgot about it the moment he closed it. It was Taeyong's cruelty. Probably that every magazine wanted to be picked by Taeyong. But in the end, only Taeyong was to decide.

“What are you frowning about ?” Said man asked while standing on all fours on the couch, hands on the table to catch something new to read.

“You” Sicheng said honestly.

It stopped Taeyong on his track, but he came back once again on his spot, the magazine on his lap, forgotten before even being opened. First win. Sicheng, at that moment, was more important. He maintained eye contact with the Korean boy who was fixing him intently, crossed legs and slim body resting against the back of the couch. Taeyong cocked his head like a curious bird, an almost invisible pout on his face, probably some kind of default mode.

“What in me is making you frown then ?” He asked with one scared eyebrow raised.

“Your cruelty toward magazines.”

There was a blank, then Taeyong's eyes opened wide and he fell in a fit of laughter, holding his stomach before throwing his feet toward Sicheng. The intention was not to hurt, so Sicheng just caught Taeyong's skinny ankle in his hand and put it on his lap, avoiding the wriggling toes trying to nudge him.

“Close your mouth Taeyong, I can't hear Mrs. Kim” Ten called from the back of the room.

“How about you turn down the hairdryer then” Taeyong mumbled, still laughing softly. “My cruelty toward magazines” he repeated for himself, shaking his head and lying back down on the couch, his head looking upside down on the other side.

Sicheng didn't explain himself, as Taeyong didn't seem to care. He just noticed the magazine that had slipped down and was not crumpled on the ground, pages bent and spine broken.

Sicheng went back home with a light heart and a heavy pocket, two new little pieces of papers and on it, phone numbers.

 

*

 

_Ten - Do you wanna hang out ?_

_You - I'm in class_

_Ten - What are you doing in class_

_You - I'm in uni I told you._

Sicheng waits for Ten to answer but was met with a different name popping up.

_Taeyong – WAIT._

Taeyong _– You're a uni student ??_

Sicheng really thought Ten had told him. Visibly not until now.

 _Ten_ – _When are you out ?_

 _You_ – _45 minutes_

_Taeyong – Porn told me 45 minutes. It's too long. Can't you sneak out ?_

_You – Not really, I already skipped this class this week._

_Taeyong – Kay._

_Taeyong – I'll ask Jaehyun. Study well !_

Sicheng didn't ask who Jaehyun is. He turned his phone down and felt abandoned. It was his turn to be the forgotten magazine on the ground.

When he exited class, he made a bee-line to go home, too shy to ask to go to the salon, and secretly terrified to interrupt something. In all honesty, he didn't want to meet this Jaehyun, in case Taeyong would have brought him to the salon.

_You – is Jaehyun a friend of yours ?_

_Ten – Yep._

_Ten – Highschool friend._

Sicheng closed his flat's door with his feet, fishing his phone in his back pocket. He showered, heated a cup of instant ramen then sat before his little table, his too long legs pocking out on the other side. He felt strangely sad again. It's as if for the past few weeks where he'd been to the salon had been a dream, or a reality that he'd fantasized afterward. He was not the only boy in the world, and Ten and Taeyong actually talked to other people. Sicheng looked around his flat, feeling very lonely all of a sudden, and when he called his mom, the first word he spoke to her was in Korean. He felt like he was being split in half. He felt terrible.

 

*

 

He woke up the other morning with no intention to attend his class. Morning classes where the worst. Thus when he received a text from Taeyong, he didn't pretend any longer. He skipped, like an automate, and found himself in front of the hair salon before he could even think about it. Or maybe he'd never stopped thinking about it. He pushed the door and was greeted with Taeyong sitting on his designated spot on the couch, a magazine on his lap that he closed and pushed next to him before standing up.

“You don't have class this morning ?” He said in lieu of hello.

“I do.”

Taeyong seemed to like his answer.

“Ten is in the back ?” Sicheng asked while pretending to pick through the curtained door.

“Nop. It's just the two of us. He's in town to dye a guy's hair. The dude didn't want to come because no one knows his hair is turning white. So I'm alone and it's boring.”

Sicheng nods and starts pacing around the place. He stops before one of the vanity and combs his hair with his fingers before turning back on Taeyong. The other man took the radio post that Ten keeps near the shampoo bucket and heads for the back door.

“Follow ?” he asks before disappearing behind the glinting pearls.

The Korean man leads him to the rooftop. Sicheng bathes in the sun as Taeyong rummages at the back, setting the veil that casts some shades to lie under and putting the radio on a stool. There's also a little fridge, two low tables, pillows scattered around, some chairs, and old ashtrays sitting on the protective wall about a meter and a half tall.

“So you're a uni student.”

Sicheng turns around and goes to sit next to Taeyong who took place under the high veil. The radio is shuffling on background and the wind is blowing in his hair. Taeyong's ever too large t-shirt is being thrown around with every gush or air, sometimes putting in display some patches of his skinny arms.

“Yes” Sicheng says while crouching, taking the bottle of beer the Korean boy is handing him. He sniffs it cautiously then takes a sip. It's a bit different from the Chinese alcohol he tasted during family gathering when his mother wasn't looking, and although he drank since he arrived in Korea, he always bought Chinese products. Out of habit maybe. The taste isn't bad when he thinks about it and takes another swing before putting his bottle next to him.

“Do you often run away not to pay your meals ?”

Taeyong raises both eyebrows and laugh, drinking before replying.

“Sometimes. It's funny don't you think ?”

“I don't know yet.”

“You don't like running ?”

“I don't like running if something is after me.”

Taeyong makes an understanding shrug :

“You have long legs though, it shouldn't be a problem.”

Sicheng unfold his legs. He's not so much taller than Taeyong, probably just a few centimeters, but Sicheng's body is proportioned in such way that he is 70% legs. Thus he looks taller. Taeyong, sitting in front of him, unfolds one of his legs and put it next to Sicheng's. He feels his feet against the other boy's thigh and tries not to ogle at Taeyong's nice skinny ankles. He fails.

“You have nice ankles”

“Are you always that honest ?”

“I don't know. My Korean is poor.”

“This I know.”

“You should wear ankle bracelets.”

Taeyong stares at him for a while, then smile, shakes his head and take a new sip.

They resume drinking and talking, their chit chat punctuated by comfortable silence as the alcohol starts to sink in. None of them had eaten before and thus they felt pleasantly buzzed.

“How old are you ?” The question hangs in the silence only broken by the radio spitting old western songs.

They shifted spots by then, both sitting with their back against the border wall, second's - or third in Taeyong's case - bottle in hand.

“Twenty. Why ?”

“I'm twenty two” Taeyong eludes the question.

Then he puts his chin on Sicheng's shoulder, eyes closed, already dozing off, lulled by the liquor, the soft music and the warm weather.

“Call me hyung” he murmurs before falling silent.

When Ten pushes the door of the rooftop an hour later, he finds them both at the exact same place, Taeyong still sleeping. Ten sits in front of them, takes Sicheng's bottle and drinks at it. He doesn't say a word and Sicheng doesn't ask any questions. He just eyes in silence the marks on Taeyong's neck that he can see every now and then when the wind blows on his shirt collard. Every gush of air reveals a pattern of bruises.

They end up dragging Taeyong's limp body back to the salon. Ten holds his legs and Sicheng holds his shoulders, even though the later would like to hold Taeyong all by himself. They settle him on the dusty couch of the back room where Ten sometimes lie down between two customers, then he brings Sicheng to the salon. He motions for the younger to clean the bucket while he makes count of the shampoo bottles and other hair lotions.

“Does Taeyong do sport ?” The Chinese boy asks after some time scrubbing.

“Does he look muscular ?” the other replies without prying his eyes off of his list.

“No he looks bruisy.”

Ten stays silent for a moment, but when Sicheng thinks he's not going to answer, Ten opens his mouth:

“You could say he parkours”.

“To avoid paying meals ?”

At this the hairdresser puts a bottle down a bit harsher than necessary. When the man looks up, his face is hard and closed. Sicheng feels uneasy and quite small, even though Ten is way smaller than him.

“Are you going to report him ?”

At that the Chinese boy doesn't think too much.

“No” he says flatly “I don't really care”

It's not true, and Sicheng had woken up in sweat that first night, gnawed at by guilt and scared for a week every time someone was passing by his door in the hallway of his apartment.

“Don't encourage him” Ten says finally, his features back to their usual attractiveness as he resumes cleaning the bottles shelf.

Sicheng would have asked why Taeyong does that, but said boy emerges from the pearled door and wraps his thin arms around Ten's waist, his cheek smashed against the small man's shoulder, still groggy from his nap and slightly hangover-ed.

“What day is it ?”

“Still today hyung.”

Sicheng looks at Taeyong who whines about something to Ten, speaking too fast and his words too slurred for him to understand. The oldest looks fine. Ten orders pizza while Sicheng takes an Advil with Taeyong “just in case”. They all call it a day at 1pm and eat all together on the coffee table of the back room. It's a bit dusty and cramped, but it's homey. Sicheng discovers that Ten is terrible at recognizing what food is in his plate and kept being surprised of what he himself shoved in his mouth. It was a very nice day indeed. It was still today, like the Thai man had said. Sicheng wanted for it to be today forever.

“It's always today, Sicheng” Taeyong pointed out, his greasy finger pointed at the other's face.

Maybe that had been Taeyong's mistake. Maybe it had been Sicheng's. Probably the former for making him believe that today would stay forever or the later for taking said today for granted.

_I just didn't hold it preciously in my hands the way I should have, as I believed there would be countless of other days like today. But Taeyong was wrong, and today never lasts._


	4. Chapter 4

“How did you end up tagging along these boys ?”

The cop pushed the first file before Sicheng's face. He took the paper diligently, his vision blurring, in and out, like the light in his head. Taeyong's file. He felt very far away.

“A miscalculation of the mind I guess” He murmured, still not there.

Sicheng couldn't take his eyes off the picture, probably a uni shot taken years ago. Taeyong had a bright smile despite the awkwardness that always plastered one's face while taking a picture in a photo-booth. He put his finger on the little rectangle, touching the man's chiseled cheek his hair - brown at that time – falling on his forehead, perfectly combed and shining. He was beautiful.

“Or a poor life decision.” he tapped the printed eyebrow that already adorned a scar.

Had Sicheng know Taeyong during his uni years that he wouldn't have seen the slumped shoulders and defeated stare behind the stellar smile of his angel-like face.

 

*

 

At this point, Sicheng was spending more time at the salon than anywhere else, just going home at night to sleep and waking up the other morning at odd hours to a text telling him to come over. It was a different kind of pattern, but this time he liked it. This feeling of belonging that he hadn't experienced in so may years was indescribable.

“You are very cheery nowadays Cheng-ah” said his mother on the phone when he called her one evening from the rooftop.

“Yeah I made friends” he giggled, his hand between his mouth and the phone to shield his words even though the two other boys couldn't understand a word of his hyped Chinese.

“That's very good baby. You know I was getting worried, you seemed a bit… off lately ? But you never talked about it ? You know mom loves you right ?”

Sicheng was vaguely embarrassed, both that his mom knew that he had no friends before and also that she was worried. He suddenly wanted to hang up just not to feel his cheeks burn any longer:

“Yes mom, but I gotta go now.”

“You're out with your friends ?”

“Yes”

“Good Good, have fun, enjoy Cheng-ah. Pass by if you have a break, bring your friends.”

“I will, I will, love you.”

Sicheng put his phone back in his back pocket and took a sit next to Taeyong on the quilt.

Ten was unexpectedly thrilled by the idea of going to Jeju Island but Sicheng felt that Taeyong was way colder on the idea. So the Chinese boy didn't brought it up the days that followed. He was growing closer to the pink-haired one and didn't want to see all his achievements crumbling to the ground.

“What do you do ?”

“For a living you mean ?”

“Yes.”

Taeyong thought for a second, his beer bottle hanging at the end of his long bony fingers before looking at Sicheng mischievously:

“I manage people”

“Really ?”

“Yep. A bunch. It's a hassle” and he laughed.

“For business ?”

“More like a mom ?”

“A mom ?”

Taeyong didn't elaborate. He slammed his hand on Sicheng's knee and started massaging the area, his thumb making circular movements on the articulation. Sicheng marveled at the bones almost entirely in display as the Korean man's fingers moved. Bones wouldn't be the first thing people would notice as attractive, and Sicheng was of those. Was. But Taeyong had a beauty that was all his. Pretty features, burning eyes, a sharp jawline and a control of his body that just made he seem other-worldly. It's like everything around him was evolving to make things fall into place for _him_. Taeyong looked small and fragile, delicate like the first snows, ethereal, pure, untouched, both praised, mesmerizing, feared and lethal.

 

*

 

_Taeyong – Where are you ?_

_You – In class._

_Taeyong – Skip._

_You – kay._

Sicheng excused himself for the infirmary. Again. No one looked at him. Sicheng couldn't look at himself either. He was fine only when he was with them.

“I thought we were going to the salon” He said when he joined Taeyong and the smaller man took a different path.

“Not this time. Why do you take classes so late ? Do you wanna die ?”

“Not really.” Sicheng shrugged again, as he didn't know how to retaliate in Korean.

His two friends were now used to his strange way of answering really boldly, just because making periphrases or puns was still a bit tricky and thus it was easier to just go straight to the point. It made them laugh most of the time.

“I'm showing you where I live.”

Sicheng's heart made a weird move. He stared pointedly at Taeyong's hand bracelets, not saying a word out of fear that the older would change his mind and bring him to the salon.

The salon was his second home and the pace he wouldn't refuse to go to, but this time it was bigger. The least to say was that Sicheng was not expecting for it to be so far from his university. They took the subway and when they emerged, the sun, already slowly setting down, had casted a vibrant orange color on the sky. The heat was still scorching and the Chinese boy fanned himself with a prospectus he got in the tub, eyes squinting to avoid the still persistent rays.

The second thing he was not expecting was to stop before a forest of high rises. The buildings were like walls against the sky, flat facades holed up by dusty windows, most of them opened wide, translucent curtains flying out like old sails on a wrecked ship. They got closer and Taeyong pointed at one of the buildings.

“This is where I leave. Jinju Complex, Hall E.”

Sicheng tried to keep his face as expressionless as he could. He was really not expecting such scenery. The thing is, he was not able to decipher whether he was attracted to the place or if he was completely repulsed by it. Probably that it terrified him, and everyone knows one can feel like a toxic attraction to what terrifies them. The Pearl Complex was a social housing complex arranged in such way that each tower shared a patch of grass with three other towers, with little infrastructures for kids to play. There were no kids down there and the swings seemed old and rusty.

They walked along the empty sidewalk, passing by a couple of open-windows from which the rumbling of about a dozen washing machines was emerging. Every tower was labeled with an occidental letter above it's primary door.

Sicheng was at lack of word. He looked up and thought he was being blinded by the sun before realizing that people were actually perched at almost every windows and looking down at them. All boys around his age, some older and some younger from what he could tell, were hanging on the frame, pilled next to each others and sticking their heads out to catch a bit of wind. On some windows, only legs bent at the knees were visible, on other an arm, motionless, or fingers grasping at the too slowly chilling air.

“AC doesn't work that well in the buildings and, even when it works, it just brings warm air, so most of the time we close the lids and stay in the lower stories or the lavomatics, and when the air cools a bit at night we go for the windows.” Taeyong explains while walking around to Hall E.

“We ?”

“I told you I managed people didn't I ?”

“Do you leave with… Your parents ? Your mom ?”

Taeyong no's him with his head and pushes the glass door that cricks against the floor and refuses to close back without a bit of strength.

A different kind of rumbling rises from the higher levels, reverberated by the cramped but long hallways and the staircase that stretches toward unfathomable floors.

“JISUNG ! CUT IT WITH THE SKATE BOARD !” a voice screams from a higher hallway and the noise stops.

“I'M GOING TO CHENLE !” a young voice screams back.

“I DON'T CARE WE HEAR YOU FROM FLOOR 12”

“JISUNG I'M AT KUN'S ! HIGHER !” a third voice – Chenle's, Sicheng presumes – retaliates just as loudly and the skateboard starts rolling again before the sound of steps running in the stairs get to the two men downstairs.

There's a tantrum as a door get's closed a bit too violently then the silence returns in the Hall.

“That was Jisung. He's our youngest with Chenle. Oh, Chenle is Chinese just like you !”

Sicheng – who'd been a bit taken aback and distressed by such environment, suddenly felt a pang in his chest. A good pang this time, small but still there.

“Like me ?”

Taeyong looked at him, making a face.

“Yuta isn't mean at all okay, don't get me wrong. He's probably just tired and being woken up by the kids throwing a fit in the hallways is… not nice.”

“Yuta ?”

“Japanese.”

“Cool.”

They took the stairs because “the elevator is tricky today so you'd rather try it tomorrow but don't tempt the devil today.”. They passed by Yuta's door (his name was written on it, along with another one) that was closed, but most of the others they passed before where either cracked or completely opened.

“Who lives here ?” Sicheng asked when they reached the 10th floor.

“This building is only us.” Taeyong replied while finally taking the hallway and going for a door that was ajar.

The hallways and the staircase where lit only by sporadic neon lights and the cold and sterile blue color that was plastered inside the building contrasted violently with the bright orange that escaped from the every now and then opened doors.

“This is my flat” Taeyong said with a secretive smile, pushing the door to let Sicheng in.

Sicheng looked around the place. It was actually bigger than his own student flat, but it had clearly been designated for a family. Probably a way too numerous family for the low ceiling and congested corners, by the way. But there were big windows with old-school manual lids that cast horizontal shadows on the wall. Sicheng walked toward one of them and looked at the place. He understood where that uneasy feeling he'd felt since they arrived was coming from. The apartment was so high that he could see everywhere for miles, and yet there was barely anything to see but other buildings. Yes, there was a mall that he could make out despite the sun and that seemed fairly modern, but apart from that, the place was empty. No street life, no shops, no restaurants, no one on the sidewalks.

“People don't work here, because there's nowhere to work at.”

Taeyong's voice made him jump. He was resting against the opening between the kitchen and the living room, a cup in hand, the sound of water boiling emitting from behind him. Sicheng looked guiltily at the tip of his sneakers, glanced another look by the window, then opened his mouth explain himself but Taeyong's face was soft, and his smile was sad.

“There's a whole lot of nothingness in the Pearl Complex.”

But it was a good thing Taeyong had added while pouring him some coffee from the new kettle he'd found – he didn't say bought, Sicheng felt slightly uneasy. People never stay here for too long, or if they stay it's just because they can't leave. And thus, Taeyong and his boys had managed to snatch the entire building, months after months.

“The number of people living here fluctuates a lot because of unemployment, and so there's a lot of abandoned flats. It gave us a huge playground.”

Sicheng wanted to say that the playground is that big patch of concrete were you run for 30 minutes when you're a kid, not the place where you live. But he was scared to come off as rude. He wasn't disdainful toward Taeyong regarding that place. He was feeling completely out of his shoes, and strangely sad. It's not where he'd grown up himself, and such desolated place, so empty of human interaction and, visibly of human love, was throwing him in a terrible mindset.

When he left, he almost ran to the subway and called his mom when he arrived home, desperate to feel some motherly warmth.

 

*

 

“Taeyong told me he brought you to Jinju.”

Sicheng nodded, sitting at the table of a bar near the train station. Ten hummed, not looking at him.

“How was it ?”

“Sad” Sicheng answered truthfully.

“Did Taeyong do something ?”

“No. He just showed me his living room, his kitchen, and the knew coffee pot.”

Ten choked :

“ What coffee pot ?”

“The one he brought.”

Ten breathed through his nose but didn't say a word. Said Taeyong arrived with a bandage around his arm that his oversized t-shirt couldn't quite hide. Sicheng pushed his cup toward him to let him drink on it so he wouldn't have to buy himself one but the Korean man ignored it pointedly:

“Is this pity you're handing me Sicheng ?” He asked, his face devoid of any emotion so no one could actually tell whether he was speaking out of nowhere or if he was about to get mad.

“Right” Sicheng said taking his beverage back “you might run away with the cup and I will not run with something liquid in my stomach.”

Ten's eyes opened wide but Taeyong threw his whole body backward, the chair he was sitting on dangerously standing on its two back legs, as he started laughing whole-heartedly. Sicheng laughed too and after a while, Ten warmed to it and, realizing Taeyong was really enjoying himself, started laughing too.

“Porn also lives in Jinju.” The pink-haired boy suddenly deadpanned without any transition.

It was Sicheng's turn to eye Ten defiantly and Ten looked at the bottom of his cup as if it was holding all the secretes in the universe.

“We are having an introduction party tonight” He said to change the topic.

Sicheng scrunched his nose.

“Whom for ?”

He was in no mood to celebrate someone's arrival in their tiny cocoon.

“Yours you punk.”

“Mine ?”

“Mind blowing.”

“Calm down Porn.”

“Why do I need an introduction party ?” Sicheng cut their bickering, frowning harder and harder.

The two men suddenly looked at him as if he was growing a second head.

“Because no one knows you ?” Ten tried, sounding obvious.

Sicheng's eyebrow twitched. He was not a fan of the idea. He was not a fan at all, because he realized that they wanted to introduce him to the population of Jeju and Sicheng had about zero intentions to put a feet on Jeju ground for the rest of his life.

“The salon is nice”

“Three people in the salon is okay. Not twenty.”

pinching his nose would definitely be rude.

“You don't want to sleep at my place tonight ?”

Taeyong's voice was higher and softer than before, his pitch black eyes shining with unspent sadness, his pretty mouth pouting subsequently. The pink of his hair was slowly fading and looked more rose gold than bright pink but he still managed to look like his etheral self.

The kick Ten sent him under the table didn't go unseen by Sicheng.

 

*

 

“I'll close the salon earlier today, we will pick you up at 8. Unless you remember how to go of course” Ten was mumbling the end of the sentence, trying to pick the right key as they were waiting for their respective train in the station.

“Send me the addressee just in case.” Sicheng answered before going his way.

He was silently cringing, already feeling the desolated aura of the place, how it lacks of everything and how disturbing it is to be there. Sicheng seriously wanted to call his mom so she could cancel it for him. At 20, the “my mom doesn't want to” was not a valid excuse anymore, especially since he was hellbent on skipping class to go with them. Saying no tonight would just be rude. Sicheng could already see the scene as he was waiting for his train: everyone looking accusingly at him, Ten and Taeyong siding with the other kids and leaving him alone _“who the fuck are you to look down on us just because we live in a washing machine”_. That sounds damn condescending.

“You live in a washing machine ?”

Sicheng jumped and the screech that escaped his mouth was not one he was proud of. At all. His heart started racing even more – if that was possible – when he turned around to be met with a face right in front of his. Golden rose hair and pitch black doe eyes.

“Taeyong ? God you scared me... weren't you supposed to go back to Jinju ?”

Taeyong didn't move from where he was, still on the tip of his toes, his nose before Sicheng's and looking straight into his eyes. He didn't answer, he just kept starring, but Sicheng had all the answers he needed. It was not a judgmental stare, nor did Taeyong seem angry or vexed. He just kept starring into his eyes until Sicheng looked somewhere else. They both knew he wouldn't have come. At that moment Sicheng was a bit frightened of the other man. But it faded as quick as the feeling at slipped in, as Taeyong smiled shyly to him and asked :

“Wanna go run errands before going there ? Wouldn't be cool to arrive empty handed, the dreamies would probably kill me.”

“Who are the dreamies ?”

“The youngest. As long as you're not legal you're a dreamy.”

“Why ?”

“Because the world still seems beautiful.”

Taeyong had said that with a non-committal shrug, his tone airy and his body language relaxed. As if he was talking about what he'd eaten at lunch. Life seemed to go through him like water on an impermeable jacket, bouncing on, cool but not affecting him the least. Sicheng was dead wrong.

The younger understood why Taeyong was wearing a jacket under such heat. They were both shopping at the nearest grocery shop, Sicheng buying a bottle of soft alcohol and a few snacks, when he spotted the other at the makeup aisle.

“I'll go pay hyung, you coming ?”

But the end of the sentence got lost somewhere. Taeyong was looking diligently at some eyeliner before putting it in his pocket. He then looked at some nail polishes, put some on his nails (on his 10 nails to be precise, which hardly counted as a “try out” in Sicheng's opinion) then put the tube in his pocket.

“Do you want something here ?” He asked while rummaging through the mascara box.

“Is it... for the party ?”

“Hmmyeah”

Sicheng swallowed and looked around.

“Stop that you look suspicious”

“Hyung !” the Chinese boy mouthed, fear crawling along his spine.

“It's for the dreamies. Wanna give me what you took ?”

Taeyong extended one hand, still focused on what was written on the side of an expensive water-proof mascara.

“No !” Sicheng was outraged.

He turned his back on the older and went straight for the cashier, dropping his items a bit too harshly. He smiled nervously at the girl behind the counter, also a student, sharing one of his class. She seemed to remember him and he waved awkwardly, not knowing what to do in this kind of situation.

Taeyong arrived behind him, pressing against his arm. He added a bottle and put the exact amount, all in coin – bottom drawer money – and went past Sicheng, totally unbothered, hands in his pocket:

“I'm smoking I wait outside babe kay ?”

The younger was too busy turning bright red to answer. He was so embarrassed that he didn't think about stopping Taeyong before the door, but the thin boy was already out of the shop, with no sirens blaring.

Sicheng gave his last saving and exited the place without another glance for the cashier.

“Hyung !” he screamed and Taeyong started jogging around, laughing loudly.

The descending sun was casting beautiful shades on his face, a halo on his hair, maybe even wings on his back.

“Hyung !” Sicheng complained back, running after his friend and catching up with him, a hand on his shoulder “I thought you were stealing this things you scared m-”

Taeyong held the mascara before Sicheng's eyes, a contented look on his face. Before he could ask how the alarms didn't scream out, the Korean boy showed the inside of his pocket, full of items, but most importantly, doubled with aluminum.

“You don't ring me.” Taeyong whispered with self assurance.

“Why did you call me babe ?”

“Let's go ! We'll be late. Yukhei and Mark will start fighting if we take too long.”

Sicheng didn't push the matter and tried to cool his temperature by rising and lowering his arms in the air. They even had engaged in small talk when Taeyong's body language changed drastically.

“Taeyong hyung ?”

“If that ain't Taeyongie !”

Sicheng turned around to see a car stopped about three meters away, windows rolled down on four men looking at them pointedly, a dangerous look in their eyes. The younger didn't dare stare away from them but he felt Taeyong's hand slowly circling his wrist.

“Taeyongie !” chanted one of the guy, probably a bit older than them but not by much.

They all laughed and seemed ready to get out of the car.

“When they set a foot out, you run okay ?” Taeyong murmured with urgency, still not moving an inch, like planted in the concrete.

“Running where ?” answered Sicheng who's voice was rising with fear.

He had troubles thinking, the air barely making it to his lungs from his constricted throat and his heart was beating in his ears. He doesn't know how, but suddenly the scenery hit him and his eyebrows shot up as he said :

“My flat is a block away.”

Taeyong didn't wait any longer.

“Run for it !”

Sicheng ran. He ran, dragging the other boy behind him, fishing his key out of his back-pocket, his bag of groceries dropped on the floor and long forgotten, the snacks smashes and the bottles crushed.

“Run run run don't look back !” Taeyong kept on screaming at him, quite uselessly since Sicheng would have run even if he'd told him to stop.

The guys had started running too, their heavy footsteps resonating in the empty streets, loud breath and high pitched snickers following them like terrifying spirits.

Sicheng took a harsh turn just before his place and was about to speed up to unlock the hall's door when Taeyong's hand escaped his. He turned around with horror to see the older one turning around:

“Taeyong no !”

“The makeup !”

Sicheng spotted the items Taeyong had stolen lying on the floor about a meter from them. For the dreamies, Taeyong had said. Sicheng still can't explained what happened to him that late afternoon, under the scorching sun. Probably that it had hit his head pretty badly. He caught Taeyong arm, slammed the keys in his hand and pushed him behind him as he ran for the products. He ignored the screeches the Korean boy emitted as he threw himself on the ground to catch it, the first of the four guys already on him. The feet that landed on his left ribs pushed the air out of his already suffocating lungs. He rolled down with the force of the impact but gathered his strength to get up, taking a punch right under the eye as a second one arrived. He threw his fist around in hope to make them back out but Taeyong arrived right next to him, arm up, fist menacing, and the hit he landed made something crack under his knuckles.

They didn't stay around to look at what had been broken, retreating at full speed in the hall and closing the door with the combined force of their two bodies. There was a second of silence then bodies slammed against the door, hands against the metal, then knees and feet, and the distinctive ring of a metallic object against another one.

Sicheng's body jumped on the spot, he got up, and hurried to the staircase, Taeyong on his tracks as he closed a second door between them and the guys. They ran up the stairs, their limbs protesting but their brain still in the rush of the action, and they allowed their legs to give up only when Sicheng's flat door sealed the last protection they could get against the outside.

More lucid, Taeyong dragged himself hurriedly to the balcony and closed the glassed window, lids down. They he collapsed in the shoes area next to Sicheng. The later opened his trembling hand, revealed the mascara and dropped it with a little hysteric laugh. A mascara. He wanted to throw it by the window.

 

“A poor life decision for sure” the cop grumbled as Sicheng had not said another word. The older man sighed while putting Taeyong's file on the table to take another one. Mark's. Sicheng's eyes bored wholes through the pictures. He wanted to go back. But today was over, and he didn't have it in him to tell the cop he was wrong.

_It couldn't have been any other way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading ! don't forget to kudos or comment !  
> Love, Pony


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is quite short but if i keep up i'll start a new action and then the chapter will be way too long and messy.  
> Back to Jinju.

Taeyong didn't say who they were to him. These men. Truth to be told, Sicheng didn't knew a damn thing about Taeyong. No hobbies, no job, no parents, no relatives, no friends apart from Ten and this group of people at Jinju. Taeyong was a mystery but a smiling mystery was never suspicious. His beauty and airiness was infectious, and he probably could have gotten anything he wanted. But he didn't seem to want just anything.

“There's blood on your shirt.” Sicheng said matter of factly.

He was too scared still to be shocked by his own apparent aloofness. Taeyong looked down at his beautiful silk shirt that made like cool water undulating around his skinny frame. Again, Sicheng didn't know a damn about cloth, but Taeyong was always well dressed, the nice pattern, the good texture, the colors blending together perfectly. Had Sicheng tried to wear skinny jeans with way-way-too oversized shirts or sweatshirts the way Taeyong did, he would have looked totally ridiculous. But the older was gracious in about everything and he knew how to make his features stand out.

Taeyong sighed the kind of sigh that sounds déja vu.

“I'll try to get it back when I go home.”

Sicheng didn't answer to that. He was expecting what was coming with some sense of dread and delighted anticipation. Maybe it was the sun hitting on his head, maybe it was the adrenaline. He didn't know how and what to think anymore.

“Can I use your shower ?”

There was a moment of silence that none of them could explain as both knew that somehow the situation would end up like this the moment they stopped running. They couldn't go anywhere in these clothes, totally crumpled around the collar where the guy had grabbed him and blood stained for Taeyong. Not even talking about the incredible amount of sweat they had produced in such short span of time.

Sicheng let him borrow a few clothes from his cramped closet and stood awkwardly before the bathroom door.

“Do you want me to close the door ?”

The question took the younger aback. It was the first time he caught Taeyong blushing, red spreading on the back of his neck out of embarrassment.

“Sorry ah” he laughed nervously and hugged the clothes tighter against his chest, shaking his shoulders and almost tripping on his jumping legs “sorry sorry it's just, at my place, ah, there are barely no individual showers and...” Taeyong literally slammed the door on Sicheng's face.

“How can you slam my own door ah...” Sicheng murmured incredulous, turning around to peep through the lids.

Two of the men were still waiting down, and Sicheng spotted the last two in the car, now parked right in front of his building.

“Are they still around ?” Taeyong's voice rang from behind the bathroom door.

“Yes.” he screamed back, not looking away from the window.

Now that the adrenaline was completely down, Sicheng started to realize what had just happened. He took a step back, away from half closed lids, as if to disappear from their sight, suddenly afraid to be seen. He took his head in his hands and sat heavily on his old couch-bed. Waves of heat washed over him, then a cold feeling crawled up and down his spine, freezing him to the core.

_They know where I live. They know where I live. I just punched a guy over something that was stolen. How do I report that. I ran away from that stupid chicken place if I set a single foot near a police station i'll be cooked I can't-_

“Sicheng ?”

Taeyong was out of the bathroom, steam surrounding him, his hair still damp of the shower and his skin glowing with heat. Sicheng didn't understand why the older was making such face, all guarded, like his kind self had swiftly retreated somewhere else:

“what are you doing with that ?”

Sicheng looked at his hand and felt taken aback when he spotted his phone in it. When did he take it ? He breathed heavily, his hand limp around the device as he slowly looked up at Taeyong. As ever, none of them said a word, but they both understood. Taeyong lurched forward but Sicheng ducked, vouching from the couch and crawling down the linoleum on all fours. A hand caught his ankle and yanked him backward. He stumbled down but clasped his fingers around the phone, kicking to make the older lose grip. Aggressive “give the phone”'s and “let go”'s were thrown through clenched teeth as they bickered on the ground, unable to get up or to get a good hold of the other to actually succeed in their own plans. Understanding that he wouldn't be able to get enough time to lock himself in the bathroom, Sicheng clasped his legs between Taeyong's torso as he was bending forward to snatch the phone away and typed the emergency number.

“Hang up hang up hang up Sicheng fuck !” Taeyong's breathless voice was repeating with urgency like a mantra, hands flying around his face.

But Sicheng was still tall and managed to keep the older at bay, catching his frenetic hands not to get scratched. They rolled on the floor and Taeyong found some leverage so Sicheng twisted his waist with a war-cry and they rolled once again. He thumped heavily on Taeyong, and Sicheng maintained the other's face tightly against his chest as someone picked up the line.

“… _How may I help you.”_

“Yes sir- There's a- bunch of guys in my neighborhood and they are banging on a building door with metal bars and assaulting people.”

“ _Have you been assaulted ?”_

“No but- I saw them.”

“ _Are you in said building”_

“No I'm a bystander”

There was a ruffled sound on the line and Sicheng tightened his grip on Taeyong's unmoving body still smashed against him.

“ _Where are they and how many of them with metal bars ?”_

“I saw two banging and there are two others, they are waiting in a car.”

pik

Sicheng gave him their location then hung up when the cop assured they were sending a patrol as it was not the first time such behavior was reported. The hand holding the phone finally went down and he dropped the phone on the floor before remembering the body crashed under his. Suddenly terrified, he lifted himself up to see Taeyong catch his breath, his face all read, his hair sticking to his forehead as he let his head down, revealing his long neck, breathing to his heart contend.

“I'm sorry.” Sicheng said simply.

Taeyong didn't answer, just rolled his eyes before closing them and not moving an inch from under Sicheng. Finally embarrassed, the Chinese boy unclasped his legs from around Taeyong's waist. The older cracked an eye open, his face still tilted backward, hooded gaze and fast breathing as he planted his feet on the ground, legs bent on each side of Sicheng's hips. He wanted to get up to go check at the window, but he couldn't tear his gaze from Taeyong's. He could feel the heat of his body under him, the steady heartbeat against his hammering one. Sicheng held his breathe as he smelled it. Taeyong was smelling like him. His soap. His cloth. He exhaled slowly through the nose, mouth open, lost in a storm of mixed feelings; fear, anger, thrill, and a darker, primal instinct to mark what belongs to him.

_Stupid boy, nothing belongs to you._

 

 

They parted only when the sirens started singing in the neighborhood. Like thrown out of their trance, they got up hastily, checking through the lids as the two guys sitted before the entrance of the building scrambled to the car as the police's was turning down the street. The siren turned louder as people shouted down and the two cars disappeared down the next block, the screech of the tires and the slowly fading scream of the sirens slowly blending with the city's background noise.

They escaped the building by the parking lot's entrance, hoods up despite the heat. Two shadows engulfed by the nearest subway mouth, finding unexpected solace in the dark cool place, unheard and unseen. They made sure to fade in the crowd without losing each other and Sicheng didn't take his hood down before being in a train and a couple stations away. He looked up at Taeyong for the first time since they left his house, since he got up from the ground to be honest, and looked straight into his black doe eyes. The older was back at the windows and when the train surfaced, the sun was falling down, the sky like spilled blood and vibrant orange, rays painting on Taeyong's complexion with organic shades. Through the windows, Sicheng could make out the city shrinking in the ground, then before the scenery turned empty, the monstrous complex started rising from the ground. High rises like teeth planted in the concrete, dark and surexposed against the setting sun. Sometimes, the train would take a turn and a bit of sun would hit an open window and a flash of light would pierce the area at miles around, boring holes in Sicheng's vision. Jinju Complex and his load of hopelessness was in sight as they slowly descended underground, and with it, the way too real feeling of dread that one feels when the sun disappear.

What was he doing here ? Sicheng looked at his shaking hands, a bit of blood trapped under one of his nail where he'd punched that guy. He put his hand in his pocket then looked up one last time and planted his gaze in Taeyong's who slowly looked back.

 _He had eyes like a car crash._ You know you shouldn't look but you can't turn away _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pony wrote so fast this time haha, unbelievable !  
> Don't forget to kudos and comment ! thank you for reading me !  
> Love, Pony.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sicheng has it bad. I love Jungwoo Chenle and Taeil. Everyone meets everyone.

The sky was growing darker, pink clouds far where the sun still casts his burning rays, and above, the moon high up in a light purple blanket, the night still too young to let the stars shine. Taeyong and Sicheng arrived fairly late down the Square where people where gathered. Sicheng eyed the bonfire they had lighted in the middle of the infrastructure built for the kids and wondered if it was very legal. But, after all, nothing of what had surrounded Taeyong seemed legal. Not saying that Taeyong was never within the borders of legality, but rather that this place seemed in a totally different dimension where laws don't exist and kids live down the streets and colonize entire building and spend their days in underground lavomatics because where they live the sun doesn't tan, it burns. Yet, it seemed perfectly normal for them, as the two men approached a group of loud of boys.

“Mark !” Taeyong called, and the boy turned around, his body already growing but his face still holding dearly on it baby fat. “This is Sicheng. Sicheng, this is Mark, he's in charge of our younger.”

The Dreamies, Sicheng assumed, and shook Mark's hand. The younger eyed him suspiciously for a moment, and Sicheng realized that there was someone behind him, too busy typing something on a flip phone to pay attention to them.

“This is Haechan. Mark is a bit... flexible with him.” Taeyong whispered as Mark gathered his unit – as they called it.

“And so you manage all of them ?”

Taeyong hummed, accepting a beer from the youngest, Jisung, this time not on a skateboard and not yelling in the hallways. He seemed way shyer than what he'd let visible the other day. Or maybe it is just that he was not used to see someone from the _outside_ on _his_ ground. Sicheng felt like he was pulled inside a tight family, a clan of some sort, and everyone, even though sympathetic, was wary of him and eyeing his every move as he trailed behind Taeyong. Saying he was uncomfortable was an understatement.

Taeyong introduced him to every member of his close group. Seventeen boys and men from 25 to 16, all from different background and yet faithful to Jinju ground and Taeyong's law.

_So there are laws._

The Dreamies, Sicheng learned, where the easiest to get along with, as, shyness won upon, they were more eager to give their trust. Also, He'd been introduced by Taeyong, and Taeyong was a good leader. _Leader._ It was quite different from manager. Managers belonged to Sicheng's world, with contracts and jobs. Leaders where Taeyong's with unwritten rules and blind trust.

“Stay here, I'll go find Lucas. He must be napping still.”

Sicheng watched as Taeyong disappeared in long strides toward Hall E, leaving him alone in foreign territory, a dozen of pair of eyes starring at him, not quite malevolent, but with an animal curiosity.

“So you're Sicheng.”

Said boy, who wasn't used to have to lift his head to talk to someone, found himself dwarfed by an imposing shadow against the bonfire.

“I'm Johnny, Ten's roommate. I've heard a lot about you.”

Sicheng figured that saying he didn't know a thing about him would be rude, so he took the large hand in his and gave it a good shake. Johnny was tall and broad, but his smile was genuine, and his cheeks pleasantly round, like a hamster, or someone who's wisdom teeth have been removed. But Sicheng didn't know how to say wisdom teeth in Korean.

“I thought Ten was there” he settled with rather than embarrassing himself in Tae's absence.

“Oh yeah, he brought his laundry so he should arrive soon. He told me you met at the salon”

“Yes. He dyed my hair.”

Johnny laughed. Ten's stubbornness was infamous even outside of Jinju. Mark tagged along and they engaged in small talk. He learned that the younger was born in Jinju, like Taeyong, but that he had left for Canada.

“But the business crashed so we went back to Jinju.”

“Your parents live here ?” Sicheng asked quite surprised.

“They moved since then. I came back here. This is where I belong.”

Mark was young but proud, and as every kid of his age, was blindly attached to something that could link him to a group, to a place to come back too, just to belong to the world. Sicheng could understand that. He couldn't understand that this place Mark loved so much was Jinju. Not after seeing Canada or other places.

“I will always come back to Jinju.”

Johnny didn't counter that, so Sicheng stayed silent. It was not fathomable, but because he was the only one knowing it he didn't say a word.

_They are the one in the wrong._

 

Taeyong emerged from the building with a taller boy next to him.

“Oh oh.” Johnny piped before moving aside.

Sicheng eyed him cautiously until he sees Mark's face.

“Sicheng, this is Lucas.” Taeyong said, his voice quite different.

“Nice to meet you ! I'm in charge to make the link between the Dreamies and the rest of the group.”

Lucas – Sicheng learned – was from Hong-Kong, and about a few months older than Mark. Now he could make out why the two of them seemed so tense with each other. Even if Mark was a leader and thus had a group under his instructions, Lucas has a role that made him look more important. Belonging with the olders.

“What happens when they turn 19 ?”

“Officially, they graduate and get assigned to one of the upper units.” Ten provided as Taeyong had left to talk with the other boys around the fire camp.

The night was well settled but the heat had not dropped a bit, and the wind was gone for good. Around the fire, and with some many people, Sicheng had troubles bearing the weather. But Johnny brought him a beer and dragged him around the others. He got to talk longer both with Mark and Lucas, but separately. He thus met more thoroughly Jungwoo, a tall but shy boy, with soft black eyes and a stupid smile that shows his two front teeth when he looks at Lucas. Weirdly enough, Jungwoo seemed to more or less look at everyone like this, but the way he had to exclaim Lucas' name like he was high helped Sicheng at guessing the dude had a soft spot for the younger.

“Which sub unit will you join then ?” Chenle asked when he approached him, Jisung joined to his hip, their arms linked like kindergarten kids during a school trip.

“I won't join any unit”

“But you have to”

“Not really”

“You can't not be in a unit”

“I'm not in a unit.”

“But… it's not the rule.”

Sicheng contemplated the two boys communicating next to him with aggressive furrows wiggles of their eyebrows. They seemed to understand each other well enough because Jisung turned toward him and said:

“We will see that with Taeyong.”

“Wait for him to know that.”

“The moment he hears it you are cooked.”

Sicheng didn't remember being that bratty at 16. But he had not been raised in a washing machine.

“what are you saying ?” Jisung inquired.

“Who bleached your hair ?”

The two boys fell quiet, looked at each others, their eyebrows passively flat as no expression crossed their faces. They left just like this. Not even in a hurry, just turning on their heels and walking away as if the conversation had been finished according to both sides. Not even on Taeyong's direction on top of that.

“They are tiring right ?”

Sicheng looked on his left, not even surprised anymore when he spotted yet another person. A man this time, probably older than him judging by his face, but still smaller than him.

“I'm Taeil.”

“I remember.”

“No you didn't”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be it's fine.”

Taeil was good to be next too, because for once he was the awkward one and Sicheng passed for a really easy going dude. More seriously, Taeil was calm, collected, and even if he sometimes snapped to cheer the kids from afar with a weird dance involving too much shoulders and not enough rest of the body, he was fairly nice.

“What is the deal with Johnny ?” Sicheng finally asked, and he was not talking about the wisdom teeth mystery.

“You mean with Ten and Yuta ?”

“Yuta.”

“Ten has been pinning after Johnny for ages. Yuta is a flirt but I think he flirted a bit too much and now he's infatuated.”

Taeil moved on with the complicated triangle, with Sicheng providing constructive interjections such as “oh that's dumb” or “why ?” and Taeil complied.

“But Johnny is dull like a rock. Most of the time. And for some topics more than others. Do you know he lived in the States ?”

“Are Americans dull ?”

“I don't think so.”

“Then where was the link ?”

“There was none this time.”

“Ah.”

Sicheng saw Yuta from closer perspective when he left Taeil to fetch another beer near the fire and found the man giving a lap dance to some other boy. Sicheng ran away in the opposite direction while trying not to look like an idiot. The others all seemed to cheer around them and the music brought from a huge radio post became louder if possible. The Chinese boy was half frightened to see the Dreamies woop-wooping before guys making out with glitters everywhere but no one formalized on that. He spotted Taeyong on the other side of the fire, his face lighted by the bright orange color, a violent passion burning in his eyes. He had his drink in his hand and it was not a beer anymore. It was an unbranded bottle, and Sicheng realized that a fair amount of other boys had the same kind of bottle in hand. When their leader realized Sicheng was empty handed, he whispered something to Jeno's ear, whom scattered behind the crowd and out of his vision.

The music changed drastically and the assembly was like pierced by a violent shudder. The notes were lower, heavier, the bass started pounding like blood in his ears, the rhythm slow and the electronic voice that rose from the speakers was dark and mind blowing.

_Neo got my back, culture things, tech-tech on my mind._

It's when Sicheng finally made out the lyrics that things fell into place. The beat was a war drum and the lyrics were a battle chant on ten thousand lips.

They gave Sicheng a bottle, the same un-branded as the one the others had, and they all gathered around him, moving along with the song. Sicheng drank the whole bottle like the others did and he felt the buzz immediately. White spots danced before his eyes as all he could hear was the languid chant.

_Neo got my back, culture things, tech-tech on my mind._

Sicheng was transfixed. He looked around, finally able to focus a bit and spotted Taeyong, still on the other side of the circle. The other man's smooth skin was glowing in all the right places, strands of golden hair falling before his scared eyebrows. He was beautiful, and Sicheng couldn't look away. He wanted to cross the ring of people, go through the fire and emerge on the other side to touch Taeyong. The fire couldn't hurt more than the emptiness around Sicheng's fingers.

_Neo got my back, culture things, tech-tech on my mind._

He was evolving like in a dream. The boys around him made place for him to walk but Taeyong was gone. Sicheng turned around, mouth open, feeling the sweat on his back and his neck. His vision blurred once again as his body was going too fast for his head to process, but as he was being swallowed by the crowed and forgotten behind, a cool hand touched his nap. The shiver that ran through his skin was welcomed by a second hand around his throat. Sicheng would have let it strangle him with a sigh on his lips.

“Neo got your back” said Taeyong's voice on his ear and he closed his eyes.

He turned around slowly as the hands retracted and he looked at the smaller man, standing right in front of him, his head cocked to the side, innocent look on his face betrayed by the mischievous glint in his pretty eyes:

“You are beautiful.” Sicheng said with a smile, his lids still struggling to stay open, his tongue heavy.

Taeyong laughed and danced around Sicheng, touching him only then and there, and Sicheng thought he was going to fall on the floor, both from the mixed feelings he had for the other boy, from the heat and from the alcohol.

“Do you wanna go somewhere else ?”

Sicheng didn't think twice. He nodded his head, hooded eyes and pliant body, following Taeyong that pushed him around, his hands on the younger's chest, then on his waist, on his shoulders. Sicheng cornered him when they entered the hall, trapping him against his body and the wall, his head falling on Taeyong's shoulder and grazing the older's neck with his lips. But the leader easily escaped Sicheng's slow body and dragged him with a laugh that reverberated in the gigantic staircase. Sicheng was drunk.

He doesn't know how he managed to climb the stairs, but he remembers the sound of the water falling on a lower floor and the steam coming in the hallway. From there, they took the elevator and even though their breathe were running short, they started dancing in the small cab. The music could still be heard from here and Sicheng wondered what kind of speaker or of basses they used. Taeyong was probably trashed too as he was a light-weight, and he was dancing against the glass wall, a hand on the handle and swinging like a pretty bird. Sicheng wanted to touch him and breath in him and tell him he was hot.

“You're hot” he laughed softly, eyes half closed.

“You too.” Taeyong replied and the door pinged before opening.

Before Sicheng could grasp the other's hand Taeyong jumped out of the elevator, the air still as warm in the upper stories. Sicheng ran-danced after him and entered the room Taeyong had disappeared in. A splash of cold water hit his face when he crossed the threshold. It brought some senses back into him, but quickly the buzz overcame it as he saw Taeyong in the middle of a communal shower, his hands around a hose and ready to fire again.

Sicheng vouched forward, as he had done a few hours before, but this time when their bodies collided it was not with tight resentment but with unspent hunger. After all, Sicheng was just a boy, his shirt was sticking to his chest, his pants were drenched and he had a beautiful man in his arms.

Soon, they were both as wet, the hose fallen on the ground as they were wrestling on the whites tiles turned blue in the moonlight. They finally collapsed on the ground, next to each others, looking at the ceiling, their hands touching and their breathe labored.

He probably fell asleep at some point, drifting in and out of consciousness, still lying on the wet floor. He looked in Taeyong's direction but the other was not sleeping either. His skinny frame was facing him, his back on the open window from which some faint music could still be heard. Taeyong had his eyes open and was looking at Sicheng's pants. The Chinese boy lifted his head. He was hard. He dropped his head back in the puddle of slightly warmed water and closed his eyes, not finding himself bothered.

Who cares.

On the back of his mind, a voice murmured _neo got your back._

Sicheng never really woke up from this night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, please don't forget to kudo or comment !  
> Love, Pony.


	7. Chapter 7

Sicheng has very little memories of what happened the morning after. Just blurred sensations. The pain on his back and head, the impossibility to move his neck and the terrible buzz on his forehead along with a heavy tongue. But this he might just have presumed since a hangover coupled with a night sleeping on hard wet tilled floor can't lead to anything better. So he has vague images flashing on his mind : opening his eyes not feeling his body, the music long gone and the silence reigning on the entire building. Then later, probably after some more sleep, faint light filtering through the window, but still very young and very low. He sees himself moving along the hallways, unable to remember if Taeyong was with him, but somehow feeling like he crosses some people on his hazy trip – dreamies' head appearing from a threshold and looking at him as he passes by. Then again, a rumble like wind against external windowsills.

When he regained consciousness for good, he felt totally disoriented, like thrown in a different dimension. Truth to be told, he wouldn't have been surprises had someone told him he'd slept for a few years. He'd never felt more rested, but with consciousness came the serious pain of feeling his body again. He couldn't move an inch, as if he'd slept on every part of his body – which was not making any sense – and muffled a scream when he rolled from his side to lie on his back.

“Up ?”

Sicheng didn't dare moving nor turning his head but he recognized the voice as one he'd been talking too the last night he was awake.

“I'm Taeil.”

“I know” Sicheng whispers and the body next to him laughs.

They were in a bigger room than Taeyong's, that he could csay from the expense of ceiling visible and the noise their voices were making booming against the empty walls.

“What time is it ?”

“Around noon.”

“Why is it so dark ?”

“It's the storm of course.”

Sicheng stayed quiet a moment and tried to have a catch of the window without turning his head but even rolling his eyes wass painful.

“You didn't hear the rain this morning ?”

“Maybe.”

“Or the thunder ?”

“I heard the wind.”

After some time, Sicheng could finally move his body. He was a bit uncomfortable because he was lying on a bed with another man but Taeil, faithful to the first impression he gave, was lying on his side of the mattress and didn't bothered him at all.

“Where is Taeyong ?”

Taeil exhaled quietly, looking at the ceiling, his hands playing with the hem of his shirt. There are cuts on his knuckles and the rain throwing against the windows cat uneven patterns on his tanned skin.

“He will be back soon.” But Taeil's voice was very soft, like full of a resigned sadness.

“Yes but where is he ? Did he leave for a while ?”

Sicheng felt bad for pulling on the rope but now that he had a grip on something he would not let it go that easily, and Taeil on this instant seemed like the lose piece of the chain.

“It takes time to manages so many people.” Taeil said simply in a long sigh.

“Why aren't you the one in charge since you're the oldest ?”

“Because I wouldn't make us live the way Taeyong does.”

“You don't work ?”

“I do.”

“What do you do ?”

“I make money.”

“But how ?”

“By working.”

Sicheng sighs and rolls on his side to face Taeil, but the older is already intently looking at him. It's not the kind of stares that makes the Chinese boy uncomfortable because of some physical laws, it's more because he realizes Taeil is far from being the weak link and the older knows what Sicheng tried to do. Yet he doesn't seem mad at him, a bit like Taeyong when he looks through him but just goes along.

“Why am I here ?”

“Because you came with Taeyong of course.” Taeil's kind voice came back, a small smile on his lips as he stretched his little body and rolled the other way around.

“Did he bring other people before me ?”

“He brought people. None quite like you though.”

“Why ?”

“You don't match up.” Taeil answered after a moment of reflection. His body moved a bit as if it could help him think further. “I don't know what you are doing here. It's like you don't belong here.”

Sicheng was a bit hurt by the simplicity with which Taeil had put it. It was what he was feeling, but hearing it from someone else was like facing rejection.

“Oh. Wait, I didn't mean it like that.” The other said, turning around quickly, his face red. “It's just… this place… It's everything for us but… I know that it would be better for us not to be here.”

Sicheng gathered the strength to sit down to look up at the older, unable to hide the surprise on his face.

“I know that I shouldn't say that… But I also know that I shouldn't believe that Jinju is our redemption ground… And I know you know it too. I see how you look at this place Sicheng.”

Sicheng felt Taeil was going to ad something but the door flung open as a blurring Ten threw himself on the bed between the two of them. The Chinese boy groan as the mattress bounced under the older's bed and lied down against the pillow.

“I heard some noise when I was passing by from Johnny's room. I hoped you would have woken up !”

“He stirred not that long ago” Taeil provided as he curled on his side, as if he hadn't had any kind of dubious conversation with Sicheng just a moment ago.

Sicheng didn't say a word about it. He started conversing with Ten without asking about Taeyong, and when the oldest understood he was not going to spill anything, he got up and bid his farewell with his weird dance that seemed to be his personal feature.

“What were you talking about ?” Ten finally asked, but nothing in his voice indicated he was suspicious of anything, so Sicheng played along.

“The storm. He said I slept like a rock because I didn't hear the thunder.”

“Oh man, you're one lucky brat. It woke up Jungwoo and he whaled from his room until Lucas picked him up. He's always been scared of storms. Lightnings. Anything that makes a lot of noise and comes from above really.”

Sicheng made a non-committal noise before bolting up, his whole body protesting violently as a metaphorical lightning ran through him from head to toe.

“What is it ?” Ten asked frightened.

“I need to go home” Sicheng replied like an evidence, his eyes bulging as he limped to the door.

As if all the events of the previous night was hitting him. He had no idea how long he'd stayed here, and he suddenly felt the need to leave the place. Jinju was suffocating him once again, juge halls and huge windows and the rain falling down like a heavy veil.

“Oh no boy.”

The door that was still ajar was thrown open, almost hitting Sicheng full on the face. Taeyong appeared, the hood of Sicheng's sweater still on his head, the grey cotton turned almost black by the pouring. Sicheng took a step back, eyeing the older in all his dangerous glory. His nose was bleeding and his cheek was scrapped, but he didn't seem to care.

“What happened to your face ?”

“A miscalculation of the mind.” Taeyong replied with a shark-like smile, his low voice hitting Sicheng in a pleasant way.

The Korean boy pushed Sicheng with a hand on his chest back toward the bed. Sicheng sat, a bit taken aback.

“Taeyong, I need to go home. Did my mom call ? Maybe I missed days for uni shit-”

“shhh” Ten shushed him, laying down once again as Taeyong climbed on the bed, sitting on Sicheng's lap and pushing him still.

“Lie down. It's alright.” he added with a laugh in his voice, straddling Sicheng's hips.

“Stay with us”

“sleep some more.”

“No really Taeyong I... I need to- Ten say something.

“I said stay with us” the smaller man said, a cheshire grin on his kitten lips, eyes closed and curled on Sicheng's side like a warm pillow.

Taeyong was still sitting above his hips, a triomphant smile on his face, his two hands sprayed hard on the younger's chest for him not to get up. When he was sure he wouldn't move, Taeyong slowly climbed down and curled on Sicheng's other side, his fingers playing with Ten's across the Chinese' torso.

They calm breathe soothed Sicheng and slowly, he started bathing in a pleasant numbness, his sore body happier with his present state than if he'd tried to get down the stairs and take the subway to his flat.

“What time is it ?” he asked but none of the two boys answered him even if they weren't sleeping. “I have hunger pain” he added for good measure.

Taeyong literally called a dreamy with his phone, ordering food. Chenle complained but he knocked on the door 15 minutes later with tupperwares of food and glaces that used to be mustard containers, a bottle of tap water under his arm. Jisung was following, empty handed but complaining as if he was carrying the world in his arms. Sicheng was too happy to have food to protest when they stelled on the bed, talking to the air, then to each others, then falling asleep when no one answered them, Ten and Taeyong (not bleeding anymore) dead to the world and Sicheng contently digesting the food and feeling sleepy from such tiring process.

They slept like rocks and woke up way more numerous than when Sicheng had closed his eyes.

 

*

 

Sicheng learned the hard way that there really is nothing to do at Jinju, but that the place turns into a living hell when it rains. No one can go out because there's nowhere to go, the structures for kids are on concrete and tilled elevations which makes them three times more dangerous when wet than in any other occasions. Any sound just reverberates like never in the staircase because every windows are closed, the air starts being suffocating and even a building becomes too small for such a bubbly population of young men.

“When we were kids, there was still a guardian. He was in the Hall's locker and would watch us go in and out, pestering against us because we were little bitch on him.” Ten explained as they had moved from the bed of this couch to the couch of this over, still pilled against each others despite the humidity and the heat.

“I remember that we tried everything to play withing the building as it was forbidden to go outside, or else your shoes would dirty the hall and the appartment's floor and you would get a good ass whipping.” Mark added, chewing on a pizza crust.

“We played in the underground garage for hide and seek. We keyed some door with stuffs we found and we would take the belonging we could find to role play. And because we couldn't remember what was were, we would just throw things back at random.” Taeyong laughed in the tow other's direction, like remembering some heated games.

“Then they locked the access to the garage with a code and a push button that was too high for kids to reach.”

“So we played with the elevators. In my tower there were two elevators. One was slightly faster than the other, so we would race. Of course we found ways to cheat, like pushing the button for a long time then releasing it really fast, it would make the doors open and close faster. The elevators were closed after about a month or two of that for reparation, and the guys took maybe four months to come in, and only one was working after that.”

“what a pain. I had to use a stick to reach the elevator's button anyway” Mark said with a bitter expression.

The anecdotes were funny in themselves, but after just a minute, Sicheng felt immensely sad for this kids. He could see a tiny Taeyong, but still with a scared eyebrow and rose gold hair running around on concrete, in an underground cave, or in an elevator, because there was nothing else to do, nowhere to be, and no one to go home to.

“Why not staying home with your parents ?” he asked, feeling a bit dumb, but needing to know.

“It was the worst” Ten screamed dramatically, his eyes rolling and his head falling back against Johnny's chest.

“Yeah, rainy days meant everyone locked up in the apartment and they were all too small for everyone to stay in without walking on each other, and breathing the same air was just not possible.”

“The growns up tended to get angry super fast. We were always in their path, and so they would whoop our asses every now and then, and scream and if mom screams at us dad will scream at mom and because you are screaming the neighbors start screaming too because the noise irritates them and it spreads to the whooole building.” Jungwoo said with a yawn, nicely tucked on the floor, resting on Lucas chest, a quilt up his nose.

As if it was nothing.

Sicheng didn't look at Taeil. He could feel the oldest's eyes burning holes on the side of his head, and he knew what he would see in them. _You don't belong here. Run while you can._ But Sicheng was growing fond of these people. He was feeling the best around Ten and Taeyong – which were sitting/sprawling on either side of him – but the others weren't that bad. They were even welcoming when they understood he was dear to Taeyong and Ten. Yuta was sitting at his feet, his glittery hair sticking up in every direction but still making him look wild instead of totally sleepy and fucked out. Haechan was breading knots in Mark's hair but the older seemed way too tired to actually realize that his hair was being messed with.

“Why is Mark always so tired ?” Sicheng mused more for himself but still speaking out loud.

“He's everywhere at once.” Yuta piped, looking up to him from his spot.

“Where are the others ?”

“Jaehyun and Doyoung are running errands. They should come home soon” Taeyong said while flipping his phone in his long fingers.

The words had just escaped his lips that a metallic bang echoed in the staircase. The ten bodies around Sicheng tensed up, all suddenly alert, face raised like wild animals, unmoving but for their rapid breathing and dancing stares.

“Taeyong Hyung !” the cry came after a handful of seconds. “Hyungs !”

Taeyong jumped from the couch and ran for the door, Johnny on his heels, Ten following, and quickly, the oldest disappeared, Mark remaining to keep the dreamies in check. Even from here, and slitghly shocked by the whole event, Sicheng could see the look of envy in Mark's eyes. Because he was staying inside while Lucas was running down the stairs. Because he was to stay behind when Lucas was going with the elders to help, to provide. Sicheng got up and sat next to the younger who was making Haechan, Jisung and Chenle so sit down.

“You're not going down ?” he asked not looking at the Chinese man.

“No I'll stay here with you.”

“Are you scared ?”

“Probably.”

Mark seemed taken aback by the answer, then looked back at Chenle who was making a scene.

“This is not the spot for people who are afraid.”

“I know. I don't go because I don't want to know what is downstairs. You can't go because you have obligations somewhere else.”

Taeil came back a moment later and talked with Mark.

“We are not to be babysitted.” Chenle said in Chinese.

Sicheng had been so caught up with the whole situation that he'd forgotten that he was not the only Chinese here. _There's a China Line._

“What do the dreamies do ?”

“Nothing. Barely. We run errands.”

“Isn't it what Jaehyun and Doyoung were doing ?”

“We don't run the same kind.”

Taeil showed once again and approached Sicheng before he could answer the younger :

“Maybe you should leave now.” the urgency in his voice was well concealed, like the threat was to happen, but not quite imminent either.

“What is going on ?”

“Doyoung and Jaehyun ran on the wrong guys. It happens. But they don't know you. So go now. Come back later.”

“Why are you telling me to come back if you're so hell bent on me leaving ?”

“Because I like you. But I know that you'll come back. So I'd rather stay on your side.”

Coming back.

That seemed foreign to him. The place was still giving him the creep, but the people in it where cool. And some were Chinese. He nodded nonetheless and gathered his phone still thrown on the couch, stuck in between a pillow and the hand-rest.

“Ge ge take that.”

Sicheng turned around to a piece of paper Chenle handed him. He took it, put it on his back pocket and bid his farewell. Taeil escorted him to the underground parking lot where Taeyong was waiting.

“Thanks Taeil”

“I'll help Johnny fix things up”

“Thanks.”

Taeil disappeared by the same door and left them.

“What's going on up there ?” Sicheng asked, balancing his body weight from one foot to the other.

“Doyoung is injured. Nothing too bad but he might be concussed.”

“Will you tell me how ?”

“Miscalculation of the mind.”

“Stop being so cryptic.”

“I don't know what you want to hear Sicheng.”

“The truth maybe ?”

Taeyong looked at him with his head cocked on one side.

“Are you coming back ?”

“I don't know.”

Sicheng was being honest in his answer. His conscience at least. Taeyong seemed to consider it seriously, looking at his feet, the cut on his cheek still fresh but the blood cleaned. He moved forward to take Sicheng in a brotherly embrace, his hand on the Chinese boy's neck as he whispered in his ear:

“You'll come back anyway. Might as well come back for me.”

Then he pushed Sicheng toward the car access door which opened for him and he vanished by the same door as Taeil.

In the train back to his flat, Sicheng fetched the paper Chenle had given him. It was a note with a poor handwriting, but in Chinese, with a phone number that he guessed being his and Jisung's. He put it back religiously on his back pocket and forgot about it until arriving home.

That night he called his mom like any other week, avoiding everything about Taeyong and Ten and forgetting to mention Jinju or anything related. His mom didn't push the matter, exhausted by her day.

“The tied is good, we dive a lot. It's nice for the business but I'm really tired ah” she sighed.

Sicheng reminded her to take care and not push herself too much even if it meant not handing as much fish to the street market as before.

The next morning, he went to class not thinking too much. Neither Ten nor Taeyong called him and he didn't started a conversation either. They were probably busy with the whole Doyoung issue.

On his second period, cops barged in along with the headmaster :

“Could Dong Sicheng follow us please ?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, please don't forget to kudo or comment, it doesn't take that long.  
> Love, Pony


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sicheng is having it bad but it's just the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's one in the morning and my last upload was yesterday. Bear with me.

Sicheng pretended to barely speak Korean during the whole examination. The girl who testified with him even covered him without knowing :

“He can't make an acceptable sentence to save his life” she shrugged, probably convinced he couldn't understand her either.

Good for him.

They had been called concerning the phone call they received after four guys had started shenanigans in their neighborhood.

“Your grammar was better on the phone” the oldest said, sending him a suspicious look. “a heavy accent, yes, but you spoke back then.”

“Shock” Sicheng uttered, stressed out and actually truly unable to make a whole sentence.

The old man grumbled. They let the girl out as she wasn't in her flat when it happened. They kept Sicheng a bit longer. They'd lined the points between his phone number and his address, after that' it had been easy to find him. So they weren't out there to lock him for thievery. But Sicheng was of no help, and as the headmaster described him as “discreet and unbothering” they dropped the case and left, reminding Sicheng to call them if he saw anything weird around.

“Kids this days can't behave. The place is full of problems, and a lot of them have legs.”

Sicheng thought about Taeyong's leg, long skinny legs, but running fast like the falling rain. _This town has a lot of problem._ Maybe Taeyong was one of them. He was about to leave without a sound when the headmaster called him back :

“Sicheng, stay a moment will you ?”

The boy stood awkwardly on the threshold before closing the door and sitting back on the chair. It was just the two of them now and even though Sicheng's stress was down, he felt uncomfortable.

“You haven't been attending a lot of classes lately.”

Silence. The man cleared is throat and moved forward, elbows on his desk.

“I know that it must be difficult to change country, and that some people have more issues with language than others...”

Silence.

“Maybe… something happened ? At home ? No ? Is everything okay ? You live with your mother right ?”

Sicheng said no with his head, feeling bad for the both of them.

“Are you in troubles ? Here ?”

No.

“Outside ? These people you reported ?”

No.

“Listen son, I'm just trying to find some un-aggravating reasons to your constant skipping.”

“I'm sorry.” Sicheng said truthfully.

The thing is, he had nothing to say to defend himself. He was skipping because it was what had made him feel alive the past months. But saying that would be a waste of time. He had no problems really. What he'd had with Taeyong and Ten, and the whole shit at Jinju, it was not him.

“I'll work harder” he murmured, convincing in his remorsefulness. Then he got up before the old man could think of something else and slipped through the door like a shadow.

_What they are doing is bad, but it isn't your world Sicheng. It's not you._

Sicheng felt heavy-hearted. The sky was still low and the air suffocating, the heat so unbearable that the weather had not evolved from it's thunder-state. He attempted all of his classes during the following week. He even took notes, and managed to hand a paper on the three they had due for it. He called his mom every two days as she liked it better and let her fill the noise as he had nothing to say about his days anymore. He was moving back on the right tracks.

He'd never felt so miserable.

He blocked Ten and Taeyong and it's with a bit of shame that he realized it wasn't that hard, forgetting about them. In his fantasies, he had met two life changing friends, and they would have spent their life at the salon, forever listening to old western songs on Ten equally old radio, drinking a bit and falling asleep under the veil on the rooftop, with nothing but the city street's noise and the wind to lull them. In his mind, they would have stayed together until the end, never aging, never changing, never forgetting about each other.

That's why Sicheng felt a bit bad about himself when sometime he would suddenly think back about Taeyong or Ten. They were not from a different life, but it felt as if. It had been two months of bliss, and a descending crash to reality. But it was okay. Sicheng would try to graduate and forget about stealing anything or spending a night on a disaffected building or drinking unknown mind blowing liquor.

That's why when Sicheng found back a bag full of cosmetic product from under his couch while full-cleaning his flat, he thought it wouldn't hurt to go to Jinju just one last time to hand the bag to the dreamies. They had nothing after all, no entire building or elevator racing or music blaring or liquor buzzing would change that. They had _nothing_.

Sicheng felt a bit better about himself when he tied his shoelace and started rummaging his laundry bag. The piece of paper Chenle had given him was still there, neatly folded on the back pocket of his jeans. All forgotten about.

He opened his phone, entered the younger's number and typed a quick message in Chinese :

You : _Have something for you. Tell me when you are free and where we could meet. Sicheng._

He put his phone back on the table and was about to sit down on his couch to read his notes when his phone buzzed. The least to say was he was not expecting such a quick answer.

Chenle : _Took you forever gege ! Can't wait to see what you have to make yourself forgiven èwé. Leave now we will wait down Hall E._

You : _Come alone please, I'm just passing by._

Chenle : _Ah… Just Jisung and I then. Count_ _on_ _me ge. Hyungs are out working._

Perfect. Sicheng took his earphone and left the house, bag in his hand, already sweating in the scorching heat. Summer was still as difficult as ever, the sky not as clouded as the previous days, but not completely blue either. The heat was moist and heavy on his shoulders, but he felt good in some ways. Like he had a purpose. Coming back to Jinju was not what was putting him in such good mood, but he couldn't conceal the pang he felt when the train resurfaced and the towers appeared from afar, still the same. It was the first time he was going alone and he'd had a bit of troubles remembering the way. But now the path seemed clear for him.

When he arrived down Hall E, the place was empty of the elders. Renjun passed his head above the rail and looked down on him before disappearing back. Sicheng received a text soon after asking him to come up second floor, last door to the left. There were four doors on every floor, so he didn't have any troubles finding the right one. He plastered a kind smile on his face when he opened the door and slipped inside. The light turned on and a silhouette appeared on an old armchair. Taeyong. Sicheng stood still, one hand still on the doorknob, the other holding the plastic bag of cosmetic.

“You can put that on the table. I'll give it to Chenle later.” And because Sicheng didn't move, he added : “Don't blame him. He will probably go down in a minute waiting for you in the hall.”

So Chenle hadn't snitched. But Taeyong knew. Somehow Sicheng wasn't surprised. The tension was so thick he felt he could cut it with a knife.

“You didn't come back.”

“I told you I wasn't sure to come back.”

“You didn't answer your phone.”

At that Sicheng had no good excuse, he just starred blankly at Taeyong, trying not to run to the older's side and taking him in his arms. He'd missed Taeyong. He'd forgotten about him, and now that he was right in front of him, all the good memories flashed back.

“It's not my world.” Sicheng said unconvincingly.

Even he wasn't sure what he was talking about. He didn't know for sure what they were doing at Jinju. But the emptiness oozing from the decrepit walls was screaming otherwise. He knew. Just not to what extend.

“Give us a chance.” Taeyong murmured, his hooded eyes glinting in the faint bedside lamp, warm colors splaying on his hard cut face, smoothing the rough edges.

“What are you talking about” Sicheng sighed, not quite a question.

He let go of the doorknob and leaned against the door-frame, crossing his arms on his chest to give some allure to his stance.

“I'm talking about us.”

Sicheng didn't let himself board this kind of wrecked ship. The place Taeyong wanted to lead him too, with words he knew could move Sicheng to the core. _Us. A place to belong to._

“Don't” Sicheng closed his eyes.

When he opened them back, Taeyong had curled on the armchair, his skinny arms circling his bony legs. He was wearing a black muscle-shirt that could only emphasize his lithe frame. He looked pensive, his expression hinting he was somewhere else, but not looking hurt or angry. More resigned. He looked very small at that exact moment, the darkness of the close-lided room and the artificial yet warm color of the lamp splitting him between a cold and forsaken Taeyong and a more erotic, desirable one. 

Sicheng stood awkwardly by the door, unable to leave the room but also unwilling to step closer.

“Do you wanna stay for the afternoon ?”

“I shouldn't. I have an exam tomorrow.”

“Where ?”

It was surprising how foreign it was for Taeyong to consider he was back to uni.

“Uni.”

The look of betrayal on the older's face was harsher than when he'd said he wouldn't come back.

“Putting your head out of the water.”

“I have a chance to, I'll take it.”

Envy. Jealousy. Longing. Sicheng couldn't place the right word on Taeyong's sadness. His face was back to its usual aloofness but somehow he knew better. The Korean man got up from his chair, his long limbs untangling as he went forward. He crouched before a cabinet on a side of the room and signaled for Sicheng to sit on the armchair. Sicheng complied slowly, waiting for Taeyong to come back with his unbranded bottles.

“I won't drink”

“It's fine.”

Taeyong dropped one of the bottle back and opened one for himself. He walked toward the younger, drinking a bit, his adam apple bobbing as he swallowed. He stopped right before Sicheng, their knees touching, took one last sip, threw the empty bottle behind him before climbing on Sicheng's knees, his skin-tight jeans clad thighs on either side of the Chinese' waist. Taeyong then took him in his arms, as if they were standing and not on a very ambiguous position. He cradled him softly, his head falling on Sicheng's shoulder, his warm breath against his neck and raising goosebumps on his whole body. It had been so long, just holding him, like when they used to fall asleep on the rooftop against each other. It felt like a life-time ago. 

They both jumped when heavy basses started to resonate in the building.

_Neo got my back. Culture things. Tech-tech on my mind._

Taeyong stilled for a moment, his hands still linked behind Sicheng's neck, alert as if expecting for a certain message to blare along the dark chant, but nothing came. The older then relaxed on Sicheng's laps, closed his eyes and put his head back where it was. The younger was still unmoving, scared that his very breathe would break the spell and Taeyong would vanish.

_It would be for the best._

A shudder ran through his spine when he felt hot lips mouthing shyly at this spot between his shoulder and his neck. He squirmed a bit, embarrassed and trying to move Taeyong around but the older was having none of it. He started rocking his hips, so slowly that Sicheng thought he was dreaming. But at each drop of the bass, he would feel the weigh of the body above him brush against him. The Chinese boy clasped his nails in the armrests and looked at the ceiling, pretending that it was not to look at the other, but really baring his neck for all the nice ministrations to come.

It was the last time after all. It couldn't hurt.

He let himself buck his lips once or twist, too shy to move any further, and Taeyong was still rocking slowly, but with just a bit more pressure applied, his hands on Sicheng's waist for him not to escape. He wouldn't have.

“Touch me” Taeyong whispered as he was on the other side of his neck and mouthing languidly at his skin.

“No” Sicheng breathed back.

“Whatever.”

They rocked against each other until the music died, and when the silence came back, no sounds concealed the shame their heavy breathing was displaying. Taeyong got up without a sound or a look back, his lewd body disappearing by the door after having taken the plastic bag on the table. When the door closed, Sicheng's body broke in half as he hugged his knees, his breathing labor and guilt choking.

 

*

 

His card flashed red when Sicheng tried to pay for his weekly grocery shopping. He stood still for a moment, processing what was going on, before quickly accepting his card back as the cashier typed on his registering machine.

“I can try again, maybe it was on the machine” the part-time-jober provided with a weak smile, probably feeling as uncomfortable as Sicheng.

But the line being was growing restless, so he dug quickly in his wallet and put all of his saving, counting the money and handing it to the guy who accepted it. The Chinese man could feel his ears and neck growing hot as shame overtook him. The last thing he ever wanted in life was to be seen and any kind of attention was unwanted. And looking like the fool who forgot his credit card was high in the least of things he didn't want to pass as.

When he arrived home half jogging, he the first thing he did was check his bank account on his laptop.

Red.

He scrolled down for a moment then looked upon the inbox icon. 4 messages unread. Each warning him that his account was emptying. He sighed, scratched his itching scalp and started sweating furiously.

“What should I do what should I do”

Sicheng got up, pacing in his one room flat like a lion in cage, growing sickly nervous and desperate. He couldn't call his mom, what would she say ? She was sending him the exact amount of money he needed to cover his uni and flat expenses, and he was not the kind to spill her money uselessly. He sad back down before his computer on the little table and checked the bills. Alcohol, drinks of various kind, a lot of snacks and an ungodly amount of ordered food. The outcome of his thoughtless weeks of skipping and barfing with Ten and Taeyong at the salon. He shut his eyes tight and balled his fists in his hair, frustrated and anxious. Once again the same question “what to do what to do” was ringing in his head.

He got up a second time, bolting like a wild cat and started rummaging everywhere for money. Cash, coins, whatever. 10 000 won. At this point Sicheng could have teared up. As if it was not enough, the stress made him hungry. He bite his lip and bent his body to muffle the gurgles of his stomach.

This night Sicheng didn't catch any sleep, he scrolled down on his laptop in hope to find a part time job that would take him right away, without any qualifications and that doesn't require a good Korean speaking skill.

During the following week, Sicheng tried twelve job interviews but no one wanted a Chinese boy moved by desperation. Language issue, schedule incompatibility with uni, qualifications needed, Sicheng couldn't even cry out unfairness as every excuse he received were acceptable. He had nothing to give, no talent, no skills, and no room for a time consuming job.

Sitting on a concrete poll before the supermarket, Sicheng was looking a the cars going around, hopelessness creeping as his fridge was emptying. Squinting in the sun, he licked his chapped lips and spotted the two guys standing in the shade of a bus stop. It was not the first time he was seeing them eyeing him. By the time he thought they would have given up on mugging him as he obviously had nothing for himself so far. He lifted his middle finger in their direction, half buzzed by the sun against his head, and considering that a good beating would lead him to the hospital with a nice bed and some food. He would pay later.

But the two guys threw him ugly looks, not even bothered, before retreating in a near-by building, their hoods on probably warming their heads up 1000°F. Sicheng then went back to making his phone turn in his long fingers before getting up to go to his afternoon class.

It's in the middle of the lecture that the idea popped in his head. He took his phone out of his backpack and looked for Ten's contact. He unblocked it and typed a quick message, ignoring the ones he'd been sent.

You : _Can we meet at the salon tonight ?_

Ten : _I don't think it's a good idea._

You : _I'll be there by 8._

Ten : _Whatever. Food's on you._

Sicheng didn't mention he was coming for money. When the class was over, he received a call from his mom :

“I can't talk long mom, I gotta go meet Ten, we are going out.”

“Aren't you going out a lot recently ?”

Sicheng gulped.

“Don't worry, I found a job. I'm good.”

“Really ? That's cool, well then we can talk about that later, enjoy your evening !”

“Yes thank you.”

He hung off and shut his eyes hard, shaking his head, before heading to the supermarket. He roamed for a moment in the aisle, sweating profusely once again, but not because of the heat this time. He eyed the instant food aisle, looking left and right like a maniac, the blood probably drained from his face as he took two boxes and dropped them on his bag. Then he kept walking in circles for a good 15 minutes, feigning to look at some price tags or nutritional contents before heading to the outside. The guy from last time was still behind the cashier counter and smiled at him timidly when he passed by, probably recognizing him. Sicheng waved awkwardly, then tried to look natural as he kept walking forward the two automatic plexiglass doors. He passed the vigil which didn't paid him any attention, yet he felt like he was being watched by everyone. His feet were going forward mechanically and it was like the doors were retreating further and further.

When the wind finally hit his face, he kept on walking like an automate, forward forward forward, he turned at the first intersection, the supermarket not in sight anymore. He looked up, spotted the two guys eying him and he stared back, like a deer in the headlight. They knew. He didn't care. He bolted, running suddenly and scaring an old woman walking on the sidewalk. He ran as fast as he could, with only the sound of the wind in his ears, the blood pumped up by his wild heart beating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, please don't forget to kudos and comment !  
> Love, Pony.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sicheng is not ready to have The talk. Ten is (((:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the whole story outlined. woop woop.

It was the first time he was stealing something. The two last times, he'd just tagged along. This time it was him. All on him. He closed his eyes and kept running up the street, people stepping aside when seeing him arrive. He stopped running only when he arrived right in front of Ten's salon. It was earlier that what they had agreed on but Sicheng opened the door nonetheless and barged into the salon. Ten jumped on his spot along with the woman he was taking care off. The older send him a wrathful look, eyes bulging out. He excused himself to the customer before snapping his head stiffly for him to follow toward the back room. Sicheng passed the pearled door and breathed, a smile creeping on his features. When Ten turned back, he was not happy at all :  
“What is wrong with you ! Where are you coming from like this ! He shout-whispered, trying to keep his voice low but still showing his disapproval.”  
“It feels so good to be here.” Sicheng said while trying to catch his breathe.  
It seemed to take Ten aback, as the older closed his mouth, the look on his face softening. He put his small hand on the Chinese' shoulder, still a bit rough for good measure and motioned for him to sit on the old rusty couch. He then disappeared by the pearled door and the sound of the hairdryer filled the room, sometimes interrupted by the chit chat of the lady and Ten's airy laugh.  
Once Sicheng recovered from his sprint, he got up, dug in his bag for the two boxes and put them on the crowded counter. Taeyong probably hadn't set a foot on this room for quite a while considering the state of the kitchenette. He opened the microwave and checked the time on the box before throwing it in and trying his best not to make the device explode. The light turned on and the box started rotating so Sicheng decided it was good enough and sat back on the couch while waiting for it to ping.  
He'd just put the second box in the microwave when Ten appeared back.  
“What are you doing ?”  
“Pasta box” the younger replied, opening his box and retreating his plastic fork before starting to eat. “I'm starving, yours will be good in 30 secs.”  
Ten actually bent before the microwave as if to make sure there was a pasta box inside, then looked back.  
“Give me the receipt, i'll pay my share.”  
“I thought it was on me”  
“I changed my mind. Hand it Cheng.”  
“No it's on me.”  
Sicheng was surprised to see how easy it was to lie when your stomach is slowly filling.  
“Yeah, you just don't have one.” he heard Ten grumble while rummaging for some real fork.  
Sicheng yawned without even swallowing his mouthful, too happy to have warm greasy food to eat. And actually feeling quite macho-ish brave and strong for successfully providing for himself and stealing something. Now that the threat was behind it was easy to thrive.  
“So what do you want ?” Ten asked while sitting heavily on the chair next to the kitchen's plastic table.  
“Are you angry at me hyung ?”  
“you prettily much fled the place, stopped coming here or texting back, playing dead for weeks and you come back out of nowhere like a punk with creepy texts and stolen food. I should report you ah idiot.” Ten shook his head and dug in his box, engulfing a huge amount of pastas as if to simmer down.  
“Is this really how it looks ?” Sicheng mused, throwing his fork inside his empty box.  
“No man, that's how it is. You just fucking disappeared after we trusted you with Jinju, got your way with banging Taeyong on the first night, but it was more than that for a lot of people back there, especially the dreamies and the China Line. We don't get to see new people that often, but I guess it was just something else.”  
“What do you mean banging Taeyong ?” Sicheng coughed, not sure he had understood the rapid and sour Korean thrown at him.  
“Yeah maybe you were playing chess up there. Hope the sex was worth it because man that's just plain not cool.”  
Sicheng shrank like a kindergarten, red to the face and stuttering, horribly embarrassed:  
“I haven't… we haven't… we are not like that.”  
It stopped Ten in his track.  
“Don't shit me on this Sicheng. Just don't, please. What is done is done and we can move on but don't try to bullshit your way out of it.”  
“No really” Sicheng got up from his spot on the couch, his box discarded on the ugly table and crouched before the older's chair, his hand awkwardly hovering over his knee as he was scared to touch him. “It's not like that.”  
The Thai man looked him dead in the eyes for a moment, something soft edging on his features, like he wanted to believe him but was afraid to trust to much and be hurt once again.  
“So you wanna look at my face and say once again that nothing like this happened ?”  
“I'm not having my... my way... or whatever you want to call it with Taeyong.”  
“That's not my question.”  
“I didn't have sex with him. And that was not my intention.”  
Ten stayed silent  
“Was.”  
“He's... He's a pretty man...”  
Sicheng didn't have it in him to lie to Ten. There was no use concealing the truth. He'd never talked about his preference before but everyone seemed pretty much open about it, a hoard of boys pilled together in rooms and sleeping together and growing together, angry and sad and frustrated.  
“And if Taeyong was to show weakness-”  
“I'm not a predator.”  
“I know but... I also know Taeyong. Just, let me talk” he raised his hand as Sicheng was opening his mouth again. “I'm not... I trust you if you say nothing happened, and I'm not blaming your for Taeyong's behavior. He has little shame, a lewd body and a dolly face. He's pretty and he knows it. Just... don't let him get to your head. He's not mean, Taeyong. I've known him for forever. He's not mean, but he's lethal.”  
“I know.” Sicheng said, looking down, a little piece of guilt still clogged in his throat.  
Ten deflated in his chair, getting up to put his box back in the microwave as it had cooled down a bit. They didn't say a thing, Sicheng still crouching before this empty chair, Ten turning his back on him, putting his way on the counter as they both thought about what had been said. Clearing the air was for the best, and the Chinese boy was glad that Ten was straightforward enough to call him on what had happened. It's better to speak than to keep on thinking the wrong thing. That's why Sicheng looked up at his friend, his heart beating fast as he cleared his throat.  
“Ten... ? Hum... We haven't had sex but... we... we didn't kiss okay ? But we had something... ?”  
The older turned around and looked down at him, his features calm and inviting him to speak.  
“Something ?”  
“It was... hot but... not...” Sicheng buried his face in his arm, unable to talk longer, feeling his whole body burn.  
A hand rested on his shoulder and started rubbing his back. He didn't look up, still feeling terribly embarrassed, but the cool breathe on his neck was soothing him.  
“It's not you I guess.”  
Sicheng didn't want to answer truthfully and make Taeyong look like a pushover, or make it seem like something he didn't want. He refused to touch Taeyong because he also knew himself and what he truly had wanted at that time.  
A kiss landed on his shoulder. He didn't move an inch but closed his eyes softly at the mark of affection. Ten seemed to understand that the turmoil was behind, and that they were hand in hand again.  
“Don't steal anything anymore Cheng.”  
Sicheng nodded, still crouching, still hiding, but feeling better, lighter.  
“So what did you came for ?”  
Obviously, things couldn't be too nice for too long. Sicheng sat on the floor and massaged his sore thighs for a moment before passing his head through the pearled door, looking at Ten's form cleaning the mess around the vanities, ready to close the shop.  
“We could talk about that later.”  
“What for ?”  
“I don't want you to think I just came for that.”  
“But you just came for that” Ten remarked with no heat, actively swiping the floor with an old broom.  
Saying sorry would be useless at this point. So Sicheng just followed the other, took the second broom and started helping around the chairs, cleaning the hair fallen on the ground.  
“Could I borrow some money ?”  
The sound of swiping stopped on Ten's end but the younger kept his attention focused on the bottom of the broom and the pattern he was tracing on the tiles  
“What are you doing Sicheng ?”  
“I just need a bit of money to pay my flat.”  
“Is it why you started stealing ?”  
“I stole once !”  
“Whatever.”  
It was their thing. Ten's. Taeyong's. Saying whatever when things were getting tricky. Touch me. No. Whatever.  
“Not much.”  
“What is not much ?”  
“I'll find a job, but I could use... I don't know... 3,000 ? Just to buy food. ”  
Ten put his broom back in the utility closet and turned the light down.  
“Take my purse on the bag, we are going to the bank.”  
“If it's to check my account, it's of no use, I already-”  
“No. I'll give the money. I won't let you down. I just don't have it on me like this, and I'd rather keep a bit of cash for myself so I'll take some new from the bank kay ?”  
Sicheng could have cried of relief. Ten held his hand while they walked to the cash distributor. When he handed the money to Sicheng, the younger felt his chest constrict and he looked down in shame, accepting what should have stayed Ten's forever, his reward for working so hard everyday.  
“I'm giving you this because it's also our fault, Tae and I. We should have considered things more thoughtfully. But... Don't leave okay ?”  
Sicheng pocketed the money slowly and looked at Ten's hand with an unexplainable grief :  
“I feel good when I'm with you.”  
“Sounds too much like an au revoir.”  
“I'm not like this.”  
They were whispering, both burdened with the knowledge that they didn't belong to the same world.  
“We can stay like this. You, Taeyong and I, to the salon. You don't have to come to Jinju. We can bring the dreamies once or twice. We don't have to change.”  
“You know it will change. You know he won't let us stay here.”  
“He stayed here so far didn't he ?”  
“It wasn't the real him.”  
Ten didn't ad a thing, tongue and heart heavy.  
“I've never felt so alive than with you during these two months.”  
It should have been the best au revoir to expect. 

*

“Hey man.”  
Sicheng was sitting on his concrete poll, his back on the supermarket and his eyes on the ballet of cars going and leaving, busy street and crowded parking lot.  
“Hey, I'm talking to you.”  
Sicheng turned his head quickly and shaded his face with his hand as two tall figures hovered over him. Hood on head. The pricks.  
“What do you want ?” he asked, trying to keep his voice assured.  
“How about you take us a pack of six ?”  
“Buy it yourself I'm busy.”  
“What with ?” the other sneered.  
“I'm a uni student.”  
The two stayed silent for so long that Sicheng wondered if they were going to beat him right then and there, in broad daylight.  
“Why should I do that ?”  
“If you bring a pack we pay you.”  
“Why don't you give me the money so I buy it ?”  
“Because we want to see if you run as fast every time or if last time was a one-time thing.”  
The over use of the word “time” in such short sentence confused Sicheng and the moment of reflexion it took him to get everything made him forget his stress for a minute.  
“He must be dumb” the taller said, almost disappointed.  
“We don't need for him to be a smart-ass, we need for him to run” argued the second  
Sicheng had gotten up and was walking away, not listening any longer.  
“Hey ! Where the fuck do you think you are going like this ?” the voice shouted behind him, but he didn't stop.  
“Getting your fucking beers.” Sicheng replied, not even speaking louder.  
He was just a nobody with no social life, disastrous grades, no jobs and money going in and out without any kind of stability. You've already done this. You can show that you are not completely worthless. The doors opened before him and the AC crashed on his face like a violent cold shower. Putting his hood on would be suspicious, so he just kept his head low. He made a bee line for the bottles section, and considered for a moment how to take it out. He couldn't run with glass bottle in his bag without making noise or breaking them. Taeyong would know. Obviously. He couldn't take his shirt off to wrap it around as he was not wearing anything else. He stepped closer to look at the packaging : the bottles were tightly secures with a carton template, but moving around would make them cling. All he needed was something to put in between the little spaces of the pack. He suddenly stopped, looked left and right, then stepped on his sneakers so take them off. He took his socks, put his sneakers back as well as he could without his hands and snatched the pack, securing them with his socks. He hid the bottle in his bag, zipped it hurriedly then put it on his back and started walking. Someone passed his aisle without glancing at him. He stepped left, right, and when no noise came, he left the aisle, taking a little bottle of iced tea and making his way for the cashier.  
“How are you ?” asked the student on the chair before him, it was the same as ever.  
“Yes thank you” Sicheng bowed his head stupidly and pushed his bottle with the exact amount.  
The guy took his money with a sympathetic wince. He was still nervous and tried to walk as straight and as slow as possible without looking totally frozen not to make a noise. The doors opened again and he quickly spotted the two guys waiting in the shadow of a building hall. He crossed the street, jogging half-heartedly, his bag's straps flat against his body to give as little movement as possible.  
He stopped before them and they started to move toward a different block, far from any preying eyes. When they finally halted on an empty street, he took his backpack off and the beers out, throwing his socks back in the empty bag along with his ice-tea bottle. He was straightening up to give his claim to the pricks when on of them snatched the pack from his hands. Sicheng didn't have the time to think twice that a hand slapped him violently on the top of his head. His first reflex to cover his face was of no use as they pushed him aside with a kick on the ribs and another in the thigh for good measure.  
“Gotta run faster next time you punk.” and they threw him a handful of money.  
Still catching his breath on the sidewalk, Sicheng kept a hand on his painful left rib and outstretched his hand to grab the money before the wind could blow them away. He swore a few times, still shaking, wanting to massage his thigh as well but when he hovered his hand over, he felt a bolt of pain coursing threw his entire leg. He tried to get up as fast as he could, not wanting to say any longer lying on the sidewalk on display, making a fool of himself once again. He held himself on the window sill and lifted himself up limping slightly on the walk to his apartment.  
He didn't think he could be more deflated but found himself downright desperate when he opened his bag back home and realized his ice-tea bottle had broke during the assault. His bag was wasted, his shirt soaked, the linoleum of his flat wet with dripping sugary beverage.  
He went to bed straight away that afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading ! please don't forget to comment or kudos !  
> Love, Pony.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not beta-ed yet because it's late and I'm tired. no proff reading we misspell like men

Ten : _Wanna hook up ?_

Sicheng was eying the phone, sitting on his couch-bed, in his shirt and boxer short, still trying to process what was going on. He hadn't talked to Ten since he'd borrowed the money – which had been dilapidated. An impromptus uni charge had fallen on his back when he was not expecting it and all the money had went there rather than in his fridge. Sicheng was hungry, pissed to no extend remembering the beating he'd received this afternoon and his wasted bag.

You : _Where_

Ten : _Salon_

Sicheng just took the time to put a proper boxer and some pants, then hang his bag on his balcony, hopping the sugar wouldn't make the material too stiff and that he could use it again tomorrow for uni.

It was around 8 and the buses were slowly emptying as the rush hour was long over. He suppressed a yawn in his cuff and went down a stop before the salon to walk a bit and sort his thoughts out before seeing Ten back. He was no fool and was somehow expecting for Taeyong to be there too. He tried not to think too much about it, but obviously ended up with the beginning of a headache. Was he supposed to pretend nothing had happened back in Jinju ? How was he to act before Ten ? Not make a move to prove him he was not this kind of guy or just be honest and… and what ?

Sicheng pushed the door of the salon open and was greeted by loud music blaring from the radio and a profusely stone Ten and Taeyong sprawled on the couch.

“Sicheng !” Taeyong exclaimed and the smile light up his face like a hundred burning suns.

They pulled him to the couch, where they made him drink and he didn't say no. He ate his weight of caramelized pork on a carton plate, drained three bottles of soju then accepted the unbranded bottles that he decided to call Jinju beers since really he had no idea what it was. But it buzzed. No amount of food managed to sponge the alcohol that contained these bottles. Ten and Taeyong kept passing each other something they smoked and that Sicheng decided not to look upon.

In the middle of the night, they decided to go out for some “shenanigans” as the two olders called it. They'd been pleasantly passing out on the couch, too tired to even drink or eat and, locking the door. They sang loudly in the empty streets, the few neighbors passing changing sidewalks not to cross them. Ten was carrying his radio in the pocket of his baggy pants and the disgusting noise of the jumping station was half muffled by the piece of cloth it was trapped in, but still, it felt like the cleanest song to their ears.

“DUST IN THE WIND”

“ALL WE ARE IS DUST IN THE WIND”

Sicheng who was not one to speak one word louder than the other, started singing along with them, his English probably foreign for an English speaking person, but having the blast of his life. It was so nice, the place was so nice, he was smashed between two over-heated and wriggling bodies, their shouts filling the dark night sky. They settled around some industrial wasteland on the edge of the city center and started dancing around. The only light spot was coming from the huge projectors, alike those in stadiums, very high and with numerous spots to light the whole field. There was a truck and sand dunes, and further, a car. They were still dancing, not paying attention to the scenery, but Taeyong separated from the group to study the car from closer.

“This shit is dope” he slurred, screaming for the two other to hear.

“What ?” Sicheng screamed back, not even stopping his jumping around.

“The car ! It's huge !”

God forbid boys' love for cars. Ten and Sicheng moved closer, the radio left on the ground and forgotten about. It was an ink-black BMW straight out of an American action movie.

“Let's open it” Sicheng said with his hands flat on the passenger's window.

Ten looked at him as if he was growing a second head, but turned around to look for a spindle, a stem, whatever they could use to key the car. Taeyong came back with a long and flat piece of metal that he inserted with Ten between the window and the door. They moved it around for a moment doing things Sicheng was not in state to comprehend, so he sat on a mound of dirt and looked at them bickering. He probably fell asleep on the spot because when he came back to consciousness, the low roar of a motor could be heard and two headlights where aimed at his face. He didn't think twice because he's stupid sometimes and got in the car. They threw Ten on the back-sit because “you're the smallest so buckle up” and Taeyong got behind the wheel. Sicheng also wanted to drive and in the end it was a good thing they were on a wasteland because the car took dangerous turns, halted, started back and honked a bit too much as three bodies where fighting for the wheels or the pedals. Finally, Ten stepped out, jumped on hood of the car and started dancing and damn he could dance. Small body or not, Ten knew what he was doing, every muscle in control, gyrating, hovering and thrusting right in sync with the electronic music Sicheng had found by accident while pushing a button on the dashboard. Taeyong escaped the car too and jumped after Ten and they both started moving. What had started as a dance ended up in a groping session and Sicheng found himself frozen on his seat, his nails clasping the leather of the seat, his eyes glued at his two best friends evolving so naturally around each other, lewd but so careless, laughing every so often, cracking jokes even with their hands on each others. But he didn't feel bad about it. He didn't feel left out or less important. Was he to follow them that they would drag him in and lather him with attention just as well. He decided to get himself comfortable on his seat, front row for what seemed like a hot show. Making out on the hood of a car must have been nice, and it sure sounded like a nice fantasy to have. Sicheng was drunk.

“Whatever.” he said to the air.

After that Ten took the wheel and Taeyong didn't even fight him on that. The older slumped on the back sit next to Sicheng, on the middle sit then downright sitting on Sicheng's laps, facing him and dancing to the music as if Sicheng had been nothing but a near-by pol. This time he put his hands on Taeyong's small waist and let them there, singing to the top of his lungs and laughing in Taeyong's mouth as Ten was driving them God knows where.

He wasn't surprised when the BMW halted before the huge teeth-like buildings. They escaped the car and the complex seemed to bend over Sicheng, towering over him to scrutinize him. He looked up and turned on himself, a feeling of dizziness overpowering him and he almost fell down. The world swayed and he found himself on the concrete looking at the stars. Actual stars, visible here far from the lightning pollution. Jinju appeared beautiful. Huge towers cutting the blue-inked sky, spotted with tiny lights far away. There was grass around him, even if synthetic. There were swings, even if empty. There was a life bubbling inside the towers even if it was way past bed time. He could have fallen asleep on the ground like this, angel-stance, not caring a bit about oncoming cars or catching a cold or his body aching in the morning. It was not the morning yet, and everything was perfect but for his two favorite persons to settle next to him.

“Porn !” he screamed and laughed at his audacity, muffling his hiccups with the back of his hands as he body was shaking on the asphalt.

No one answered him. Sicheng had troubles making out the sound going around, but he distinctly heard the crack of a trunk opening. Making Ten was trying to fit Taeyong there, just to laugh.

“Holy shit.” a voice murmured.

“It doesn't fit ?” Sicheng asked still making out the constellations he didn't know a damn about.

“Sicheng ? You might want to see that.”

Sicheng raised his head from the ground and the world started spinning around. Ten scrambled away and the Chinese boys stood up with difficulty and started to limp to the car, his bruised leg starting to hurt him again. All he could see from his actual position was two legs dangling out of the trunk, Taeyong's presumably as he could recognize his big combat boots he seemed to drag everywhere despite the heat.

“What” he started complaining, his head spinning as well, but was stopped when he turned around the BMW and took the sight before him in.

Taeyong was lying in the trunk, half dead to the world with all the booze he'd consumed and the heat dropping hard on his lithe frame. His half hooded eyes were following Sicheng's every moves and he had a bit of troubles articulating any coherent words. It was strange to witness, and Sicheng decided to put his light-headness to the heat and the alcohol and not the weird circumstances or the surreal vision he had before his eyes. Ten had said Taeyong was a pretty boy, or maybe it was his own words. Indeed, Taeyong was. Still a bit out of this world, probably a bit fucked up too, and of course the glow he could see on the older's skin was just a trick of his head. But the most mind-wrecking things was what surrounded Taeyong. The boy was lying on a trunk-full of money. Actual money. A lot and a lot of money. All nicely tied up in good amount and stacked next to each others in such way that there was no way one could fit a finger between the walls of the car and the green papers.

“You're sitting on money.” Sicheng stated dumbly, blinking but still unable to get ride of this hallucination.

“No man, I'm _bathing_ in money” Taeyong responded, with a low and growling voice like he had sometimes after drinking too much or when wanting something.

Ten arrived running next to Sicheng and stood before the trunk. The Chinese boy was expecting for him to freak out or scold Taeyong as he would every time the older goes on a breaking-the-law trip. But Ten actually beamed, jumping on his spot and touching as much of the money as he was touching of Taeyong, visibly not realizing yet that both were actually different things.

“Can you see that Cheng ?” Taeyong slurred, his eyes rolling back in his head and said head lolling backward and on his shoulder, wriggling on the stack like a mermaid on a rock, his long legs bending to fit in his new-found nest.

“I don't know for him but I can, move the fuck out Yong let's take it !” Ten yelped and started pulling at Taeyong's skinny ankle.

In the fog of his tired mind, Sicheng noted the ankle bracelet on Taeyong's limb. He'd listened to him. He was not a forgotten magazine yet. The idea made him smile and, not caring for the two older's bickering, he sat on the edge of the trunk and looked at the sky.

“What the fuck Sicheng, move !” Ten pestered but Sicheng didn't pay him any heed.

He only remembers the sky, Taeyong's glowing person, like a part of the treasure itself, very ancient and finally discovered fully.

Taeyong belonged in lakes of gold, or high up in the sky with the stars, not forgotten on the ground, in the anonymity of a dying town. Suddenly the buildings were not tall enough and the grass not green enough and nothing in this place was grand enough for Taeyong. Sicheng didn't need to turn around to look at him, it was like engrained in his head, finally cleared. His eyes were open for the first time in weeks, maybe months. He doesn't remember the full event, but they all closed the trunk and slept on the back sit of the car, warm all together, their heads against leather sits, or shoulders, or lap, and everything was enchanting. So much money. It meant nothing at that time. But it was common idea that finding money could make anyone happy.

That's that. They were so happy, they didn't even need to know why.

 

*

 

When he woke up, Sicheng's neck was aching so bad he thought he'd died somewhere in the night from a broken spine and he was still there haunting his own body to repent for his sins. It was the last time he was drinking this shit, he promised himself, moving very slowly and starting to make infinity shapes with his nose to bring some looseness to his sore nape. He had a terrible taste in his mouth and a headache creeping, heavy lids, heavy tongue, and the uncomfortable feeling one has after a weird dream. He extricated himself from the tangle of limbs, hopefully sound asleep, and exited the car. The fresh air that hit his face was more than welcome. He turned around after taking some long gulps of oxygen. He held himself on the hood of the car and looked at the scenery around : Jinju Complex was showing under a clouded sky, but luminosity so high the walls seemed to shine like well-polished teeth.

He turned around and eyed the car he was leaning against. What was this car doing here ? Sicheng cocked his head to the side, remembering the events of the night. It all had happened in a dream. He remembered the wasteland, the BMW, keying the car and starting the engine. He remembered Ten driving them to Jinju, Taeyong dancing on his laps, him holding the other on waist like a sacred sculpture, smooth to the touch and cold like ice.

Like an automate, Sicheng went around the sleek car, resting on the concrete like a sleeping feline, too regal for such place. He stopped before the trunk, seeing himself looking upon its content. He know what was inside. It was all in a dream. He opened the trunk, the car emitted a low hiss as the treasure was revealed. Mountain of money, neatly stacked. Like in his dream. Sicheng inhaled once deeply, then twice, put his two hands on the hood, looked at the money again and closed the trunk. He sat a bit further on a concrete poll, his elbows resting on his knees as he eyed the BMW.

He stared at the car for a solid ten minutes and the pieces finally clicked in his mind.

_This is money. This is stolen money. In a stolen car. You slept in a stolen BMW loaded with money._

Sicheng exhaled through the nose as he found himself lacking air. Wave of heat crashed on him and he felt his face turn red along with his ears and his neck. His legs shook when he tried to get up to wobble to the car.

“Ten... Ten ! Ten !” he tried to articulate, panting hard and shaking the door handle for it to open. “Ten ! Taeyong ! Get out of th- get out... the car... Fuck !”

The two older, woken up by his constant hitting on the hood and desperate calling, looked at him as if he'd turned crazy. He must have looked crazy. Sicheng gestured for the car as he tried to pull Ten out of the binnacle by the collar of his shirt. The Thai man started yelling at Sicheng who was still screaming incoherently, so Taeyong started yelling as well, gripping Ten back in the car. They pushed and pulled for a moment, their voices breaking against each others, their hands bruised by nasty play and nasty tricks, scratches and knuckles bent for the other to let go.

“This is a stolen car !” Sicheng heaved, but Ten kicked him on the shoulder and he went flying out of the car, his ass on the dust. “We- We need to take it back... fuck this is very bad ! We stole a car !”

“There are cars stolen every day why are you making it a big deal ?” Taeyong complained, getting out from his side of the BMW, a scowl on his face, clearly disappointed by Sicheng's reaction.

“But... But ! There's fucking money inside and it's not ours it must be someone's, what if they go looking for it-”

“Of course they'd go looking for it” Ten provided not getting up from his curled position on the middle sit.

“Ten, listen ! You're still shit faced or what ?” panic was making Sicheng lose all his control and he felt anger overpowering him. What was wrong with them ? Was it that difficult to see what they had done ?

“Shut up Sicheng, let's get in and eat breakfast I'm fucking starving.” Taeyong cut the discussion, shaking his head and leaving for Hall E.

Dumbstrucked, Sicheng stayed frozen on his spot for a moment before suddenly darting after the smaller man. Taeyong heard the feet striking the pavement and turned around in time to avoid the arm bent like a boomerang going after him at full speed. Sicheng went for Taeyong's collar but the man stepped aside sloppily and make a ran for the building's entry. The Chinese boy chased the other to the staircase and took a hold of his shirt, yanking him backward. Taeyong held himself back on the rail, his hand going backward to punch Sicheng and make him let go.

“What the fuck are you doing ?” One of them yelled.

“You can't let that car here !” Sicheng bite back as Taeyong spited “Do you know how much there is in this fucking car ?”

“Yes I know and it's not our money Taeyong !”

“Then who's is it ?!”

“Money doesn't fall from the sky it belongs to someone !”

“yes this someone is us if you don't like it you live this fucking place !”

The noise must have awoken all the resident of the tower as a rumble started to rise from the upper floors, doors opening shyly, but no head daring to look above the rail.

“You can't bring it here it puts everyone in danger !”

Taeyong stopped fighting back at this and Sicheng almost went over the rail but caught himself back. The Korean man erupted in a mean laugh, his eyes burning with real anger this time :

“So now you care about the people here that's it ?”

“I never said I didn't care about them !”

“You should have thought about that before disappearing like a thief just after you got introduced !”

“Don't talk to me about thieves !” Sicheng bite, his finger poking hardly in Taeyong's chest.

“You might as well take after me don't pretend you never stole shit Ten told me you did it on your own !”

“It happened once !”

“Say that to my face ?”

Sicheng was at loss of words. Of course he'd done it again. For these stupid pricks, and he'd received a good beat up along with some cash. Not really worth it.

“I really don't understand you Sicheng” Taeyong shoved him back on the other side of the stair's length, disheveled and panting hard.

Behind the anger, something rawer started shining in his eyes. Hurt. Sicheng couldn't follow Taeyong either. The older leaned on the rail to even his breathing, swallowing and gesturing wildly to the place where the car probably was two stories down :

“We could… man… we could do so much with all of this money why do you make things complicated ?”

It was not a drunken fit the younger understood. Behind all the brashness was a far cry, a real craving that went beyond what he could understand. Taeyong really _wanted_ that money. And even if it was just for himself, Sicheng could have understood. Taeyong wanted _money._ Not _all_ this money, not _a lot_ of money. He wanted _money_. For the first time. For him. And after for others.

“The dreamies… everyone… Imagine all the things we could do with that…”

Taeyong walked forward and stopped before Sicheng, not touching him but his hands hovering over his shoulders, his tone convincing.

“Look at this place Sicheng...” he whispered against his face.

Sicheng didn't say a word for a minute, not daring look at the other's face, scared to see his reflexion in his doe-eyes, or his own insecurities in his defeated shoulder. He understood. Or at least he grasped it, as he'd never been in Taeyong's situation. He was level headed. And he personally, selfishly, didn't need that money. He could get it from the pricks. It was safer. _I can provide for them too_ he pretended.

“I can't let you do that...” he murmured back, his forehead almost against Taeyong's but not wanting to touch him.

Taeyong was still looking sadly at him, but his body language changed the moment Sicheng put slowly his foot on the lower step. They would only have a second, and that's the time Sicheng took to run down the stairs, not able to avoid the hand that crashed on the side of his face but not caught yet. He ran into the wall in front of the stairs and turned last minute to the second fly of stairs, Taeyong hot on his tail and snarling at him. He really was like a mermaid, all pretty eyes and enchanting voice, but once he was losing the war, he would morph into something the Chinese boy didn't want to accept. Another him, uglier. Maybe truer. No one could really tell.

“Come back !” he heard behind his shoulder but didn't slow down, then “Ten ! Ten ! Take the fucking car away ! Ten !”

Sicheng ran twice harder but his breathe was running short. He almost fell on the pavement but managed to crash against the back of the car and went for the trunk but the headlights turned on and the car roared like a lion before igniting to life and speeding away.

“No !” Sicheng ran after it but it was too late already.

A hand caught his shoulder, turned him around and a fist connected with his jaw.

“Stop now !” Taeyong yeld, shaking him like a tree.

“Let go !” Sicheng groaned back clutching at a curl of hair and pulling hard. Two muscled arms circled Sicheng's middle section and lifted him from the ground with a force he was not expecting. He barely saw Yuta holding Taeyong on the other side before getting a glimpse at Johnny's head. He was thrown on the ground with his arms behind his back as he kept on wriggling, growing crazy:

“ This is insane ! He spited again and again breaking his voice and hearing the echoes bounce on the high towers.

No one said a word. They calmed Taeyong somewhere else and they made a circle around them still maintained down, Yuta, Johnny, Mark and Lucas eying them worriedly. Soon, even the dreamies popped their heads by the windows, still wearing pajamas, their eyes heavy with empty sleep, vacant stares and tired of one more fight on a long list of too many. They stayed under the blankets they shared and merged with the buildings as it was the only thing they truly were good at.

Sicheng went home with a black eye, a lot of sore spots and scratches, after cursing them with what they were doing with that money and wanting nothing to do with it.

 _I don't need your fucking money Taeyong_ he'd hissed when Johnny let him get up to leave.

But Taeyong had beamed, as if to say _my fucking money_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, please leave a little word or a kudo, it's the bare kindness.  
> Love, Pony.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta-ed yet because it's twoo in the morning and I shouldn't be up writing. Whatever.

Making easy money was, indeed, easier than what Sicheng could have expected. He came back to his spot on the parking lot before the mall, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, his feet in the gutter and waiting for the two pricks to show up. As expected, they did. He didn't dare complain about the beating. He just pretended not to care even though he was still shaking like a leaf inside the aisle, but came out quicker and with what they were expecting.

Sicheng was no idiot, he understood that things would change soon. It was of no use to fund a nobody to steal things. They could pay their own shit, for even less than what they gave him on top of that. They were just waiting for him to be hooked, or to be too far gone to step back. But Sicheng was not hooked up. He could stop stealing around, he would just have to come back to trying to find a part time job and life would move on.

But having this thing was exhilarating. He finally felt able, smarter. In and out, never heard and never seen. Always a smile for the cashier, passing the doors, turning right on the parking lot and running to the next blocks where they would wait. With the money he bought a duffel bag looking like a sports' bag, and some nicer sweats. He would run around the area and no one would remark him. _Yet another joke late for his night practice._

He ate his everyday sitting on the linoleum and bought an old fashioned TV he found in a cheap store. It cost him barely anything but it was enough. So that was his life. He deleted Ten and Taeyong's number, blocked Chenle, went to uni, handed his papers almost all on time, called his mom every two to three days and ate instant cups and shrimp snacks before the news. It was very domestic, very plain, and in between these simple activities, he would stay out for an hour or two every day, snatch things – not only from the mall now – and get his money. He kept a bit on the side to give Ten back. But it could wait a bit. He wanted to go over it as soon as possible but it's not like Ten was going to ring on his door to get a refund considering the amount they found.

Sometimes, Sicheng would wonder how they do, if they kept the money or if they put the car back after all. Maybe sobriety had put some sense in the Thai's head and he'd talked Taeyong through. But they'd both beamed, and Ten had chosen his side.

“Whatever.” Sicheng rasped as he threw his chopsticks in his carton plate, a habit he couldn't quite have gotten rid of.

Sometimes, not too often, he would eat outside. Sometimes he paid. Less and less. A different district every time, a different place every time, always the crowded place where an empty chair would not be looked upon for too long, and where the waiters are too happy to find a place for new customers to remember that the guy sitting there didn't pay.

Often he had to run. But it was okay, it became his daily thing to run for about an hour, sometimes even less. From time to time he would taste something really nice and think that it would have been nice to bring some for Ten and Taeyong to the salon. For them, he would have bought three shares without complaining, just to surprise Taeyong on his couch with his magazine and congratulating Ten for his day of hard work. The feeling usually left him quickly though. He had a paper to write or a quiz to study.

For his last day of class, Sicheng brought home all of his books and sheets still clogging his locker, called his mom and napped through the late afternoon until early evening and went out only when the sun started setting. He'd chosen this place a while ago, keeping it for his last day like a good reward. It was inside a covered street with a lot of food stands. A lot of students like him had had the same idea, already drinking happily, standing up between the aisles and making a lot of noise all over. He found a nice spot and ordered something fancy with drinks, just because he could.

A drunk girl bumped into Sicheng, almost letting her drink fall. He caught her before she could crash into anything else and quickly found himself surrounded by a whole group of the girl's friends, equally drunk, probably not even realizing he was not of them. They partied for the most of the night, Sicheng not even bothered by his Korean as he'd weirdly progressed and the state of his mates who were too inhibited to understand anything anyway. They ordered a bit too much and by one in the morning Sicheng was passably full and buzzed. He was standing in a shaded corner with a guy pressed flushed against him, their breath mingling as they humped against each other fast and hard. Sicheng's hands roamed on the guy's hips, and back, looking for smooth peach skin just above a bony frame, the bumps of ribs or the angularity of a hip bone, but only found a nicely shaped body. The guy probably was good looking and keeping himself in shape. An ideal of some sort, average, but good average. Not the low low, glowing and dangerously skinny boy his hazed mind was craving for. He put his hands in the guy's hair – too short – and closed his eyes, letting the feelings go, thinking about someone else and no one at the same time.

A shout interrupted them as one of the women holding the place turned around her counter and started yelling at them, the towel on her shoulder flying around in her hand :

“Hey you ! Go away if it's to do that ! You pay and you leave, I don't wanna see you around !”

She kept on pestering menacingly, words they couldn't comprehend in their sore state. The guy quickly dashed away, took his wallet, and left, money on the table he was occupying. Sicheng bent his head low and tried to merge in the crowd of standing and wiggling people. On the corner of his eye, he spotted another of the bartender watching him move around. Sicheng tried to keep a low profile but the man stepped away from his counter and started walking toward him. Understanding he would not escape, he froze for a mere second, then bolted toward the exit, the place full open to the covered street. He arrived in no time in the main aisle and started zigzagging between the students still walking around, going from one bar to the other, taking speed. He was the fastest man in town, the moment he started running was the end for the guy still chasing him behind. He'd done that for over two weeks. The stands blurred on his peripheral vision and he was about to get to the real street to lose him in the town when something crashed into him violently. Sicheng lost total control over his body as he was ejected in the air and rolled on the ground with a harsh thud, his limbs hitting the concrete and tearing shirt and skin alike. White spots danced before his eyes when the pain finally awoke. He wanted to scream but only shut his eyes tight and bite the inside of his mouth to suppress and cry. He rolled heavily and held his side which had taken the blow, not even trying to get up. Two hands grabbed him mercilessly by his wrecked shirt and hauled him to his feet. This time he couldn't keep his pained groan, his shoulder throbbing. The noise around came back to his ears and he distinctly heard the restaurants tender pestering against him, holding him by the nape like a chicken for the slaughter, hitting the boy's head with the hard flat of his hand. The man kept on cursing him until sirens started screaming and the crowd started dispersing. Too many teenagers with too much alcohol but too few IDs he guessed stupidly. Sicheng closed his eyes again, his head throbbing with the alcohol, the fall and the noise, not even considering running because of his poor left leg. He settled for opening his eyes and looking for the dumb fuck who'd run him over. It had been a violent collision, and they'd both been ejected, thus it couldn't have been a simple passer-bye. Plus Sicheng would have seen them. No, it was something that had arrived at full speed too, but still a body. He was shoved on the ground, held tight in a sitting position, and that's when he saw him. The silhouette was lying on the pavement, unmoving, his back turned on Sicheng.

Sicheng's heart skipped a beat. Long legs, skinny jeans, an oversized top that couldn't quite conceal the bony limbs underneath, pale skin, and a mop of bright red hair. He would recognize his shape in the dark, under a veil, even blind. Taeyong stirred faintly, and Sicheng let out a breathe he'd not realized he was holding.

He was too shit scared to have been caught to try to escape when the cops lifted him to his feet and dragged him to the car, cuffing him for good measure. He turned around once he was in the back sit to check up on Taeyong. The cops had processed to shake him up and lift him too, bringing him to the car. Sicheng was totally panicked. He turned against the car door, his hand on the handle, shaking like a leaf, unable to open it and run away. One of the cop, the oldest, with a beer belly and old wrinkles on his face took the passenger sit. Taeyong was shoved on the back sit next to Sicheng who pressed himself as much as he could against the door opposite to Taeyong and giving him his back. The last thing he needed was to start a fight with him and have him talk about the BMW or the money. Cold shivers ran to his spine when the driver sit went occupied with a second cop.

“What hour of the goddamn night is it...” the oldest groaned, lighting a cigarette and opening the window as the car roared to life. It had nothing to do with the BMW though. Sicheng hated the feeling of being in this car, he felt claustrophobic, suffocating.

A hand found his bouncing thigh. He snapped his head to the right at a speed that should probably have broken his neck. Taeyong's temple was bleeding from a scrap, superficial but the head bleeding a lot making it seem way more important.

“You fucked my head pretty bad...” he older murmured really low so only him would hear.

He seemed prettily inhibited himself and his head was lolling on the headrest, unable to focus on something, but the hand still making smooth patterns on the Chinese's leg.

“Not the way I would have expected though” Taeyong added for himself, looking away from him and by the window.

“Shut up Taeyong.” The youngest cop said distractedly.

At this point, Sicheng was not sure he was surprised the cop knew Taeyong's name. He tried to regulate his breathing without making it obvious that he was totally terrified, the hand on his thigh both soothing and unnerving. The movements of the fingers grew a bit bolder and soon it brushed Sicheng's crotch. The younger froze on his spot, not wanting to overreact, but when Taeyong's hand cupped him through his jean, Sicheng kneed the arm as hard as he could and retreated against the car door, closing his legs and looking stubbornly out of the window. The trip was silent but for the two cops chit chatting, common group discussions of being tired of late schedule, the food at the cafeteria and how Kim Junman from the stup department is a pain in everyone's ass.

Sicheng just threw a few glances Taeyong's way, and even though he wasn't, he seemed as relaxed as if he was sleeping. He was supporting his head with his hand, the elbow against the car and the window, looking bored at most.

When they arrived at the police station, Taeyong followed diligently the cops as they guided them to an empty desk cramped with files, ramen cups, empty mugs and dead pen. The AC was roaring on the far corner of the room, one long-deceased plant was threatening to fall from the shelve it was put onto. The smell of coffee and cold cigarette was floating all around, with time faint remains of industrial food. The youngest sat on the chair on the other side of the desk and pushed aside a pile of paper, trying not to make it spill on the ground.

“So” he started after moving the keyboard before himself and turning his old computer screen in a direction that allowed the three of them to read. “ name and ID number please.”

Taeyong gave his full name, and even though the cop typed along, he clearly knew his ID number as well. He was way slower to take Sicheng's uncertain answer, his Chinese accent stronger than ever.

“We know you don't we ?” the guy said after entering the number, scrolling in his datas and probably spotting a match. “You testified a month ago ?”

Sicheng was frozen to the spot. It was strange, sitting on the same chair somehow, but suddenly on the other side of the spectrum. From the victim to the guilty one. He felt terrible, that's not how his mom had raised him. The idea that she might see him right now was throwing him in darker pits of desperation. He stayed silent during the whole reading, wanting to know as fast as possible what was going to happen to him. He was terrified to go to prison or something like that, had barely ever been lectured in his life and couldn't image himself here. He kept on lowering his head when the older cop came around to lecture them. He was fatherly somehow, familiar with Taeyong but scowling like a tired dad before a disobedient son.

“What are you up to again… we hadn't heard about you in a while and I thought we'd had an understanding last time.”

“I'm sorry, I drank too much.” Taeyong provided matter of factly, like someone who isn't bothered but not impolite enough to completely ignore the conversation.

“I see that yeah. And you” The cop said turning to Sicheng who gulped visibly. “Was it a tandem or what, your organization was very sloppy it's surprising from you, you punk-”

“We are not together !” Sicheng stuttered hurriedly “I just… uni over and… party too much too ?”

The older cop looked at him a moment, skeptical, then looked at the computer screen the younger had turned toward them, read something then looked at him again.

“And we have one Chinese punk… great...” He massaged his wrinkled forehead and sighed for a solid ten seconds. “I'd like to lock you up for a good day, maybe it would choke some senses into you stupid brats. But I have to allow you to stay the night to sober down a bit, or pay a caution and leave early. You'll have to pay anyway but you got the deal.”

Sicheng felt his stomach fall in his shoes. He had no money to pay the exorbitant amount of the caution, and the food place. He gave his papers to the cop who kept it, making sure that he would pay the bar, but had nothing to pay for the caution.

Taeyong was moved to a different place since they explained not having planned anything together. Sicheng stayed with the oldest.

“We see that you have an emergency number. Your mother. We can call her and she can pay for you. You're legal so she doesn't have to do it but know that it is possible, as well as a friend of yours, a roommate, it doesn't matter at this point. Just someone who can drag your ass back home and give you the beating you deserve, copy ?”

Sicheng was paralyzed.

“No… not my mother” he begged, even though they didn't have to since, indeed, he was no minor.

“Then you stay here.”

Sicheng's shoulders slumped by themselves as he let his throbbing head bang against the desk.

“What's wrong with kids these days...” the old man complained, opening the window and smoking absent-mindly when the door opened softly.

A third guy's head popped by the opening and gestured for the captain to come closer.

“Taeyong paid for him too. Chittaphon will give them a lift. Do we let him go ?”

The older turned around and stared at Sicheng with an indecipherable look. It's like he was trying to decide whether Sicheng had played him all along. Now it was obvious that Taeyong and him knew each others. Sicheng just had no idea who Chittaphon was.

He sat on a plastic chair in the hallway for an hour and a half, which seemed like forever to him. He was tired, still nauseous from the alcohol and the panic, and just wanted to close his eyes and forget about what had happened. It was around four in the morning when a tired but resigned looking young woman stopped before him, uncuffed him and brought him to the entrance. He crossed the office and finally met with Taeyong again when they left them both outside. The captain was waiting next to the Korean boy, handing his lighter so they could both smoke a bit. A car parked right before them on the curb and the captain moved closer. The window went down and Sicheng raised his eyebrows at Ten.

“I thought we had an understanding.” the captain scowled.

“We still have, Sooman-ssi. It takes time, but you know that.” Ten answer, shrugging helplessly.

Sicheng didn't have it in him to frown, but he was happy nonetheless that it was Ten driving them back home rather than this Chittaphon.

“Yeah well, try harder Chittaphon. Seriously. I can't back you up forever. And I know what you are going to say but you know what I am going to say too so save it and take these ungrateful idiots with you. I don't wanna see you around ever again, heard me ?”

Now Sicheng was frowning. But he couldn't think straight. Ten exited the taxi and went to take Sicheng and Taeyong close to him. The youngest kept is head low, shameful and wanting to tear up from the exhaustion and the stress.

“We will walk. It will sober you down.”

Non of them complained, so they started to walk, Sicheng following passively as he had no idea how to join Jinju by foot from here.

Sometimes, he missed the countryside. He would look at the gray city crawling before him, the high buildings, the light pollution, the honking and the traffic, the crowd everyday and cramped places with asphalt everywhere, and would long for his hometown. But this night, as they walked through the city, district after district, leaving Sicheng's sad and lonely flat behind and going for Jinju, the youngest found some kind of piece within himself. Dawn was breaking, the sky softening, from pitch black to calm lavender, near they arrived near Jinju Complex. The towers were still far in the distance, but at least they were there. The were walking on a bridge above the railways and the first trains were carrying the unlucky ones starting first shifts, or the tired workers who'd pulled an all nighter. They stopped against the railing for a moment to sooth their aching feet and looked at the sun rise really slowly, still not in sight, but definitely coming.

“I'm sorry I kneed you in the arm.” Sicheng said while looking at the shrinking silhouette of a train.

“I'm sorry I touched you in the car.” Taeyong answered really honestly.

“I'm sorry I didn't listen to your worries Sicheng” Ten added.

“I'm sorry I behaved that way last time.”

There was a moment of silence, all no longer in their little worlds but hearing each others. The sun rising on Jinju was beautiful. It was a lot of soft colors, far from the burning violence of the sunset Sicheng had witnessed every time he came. They stood there for a few minutes, halfway between the noises of the city behind and the big emptiness of the wasteland before; no words exchanged but their feet touching.

When they finally arrived within Jinju, it was close to seven in the morning. The heat was not there yet and the breeze was nice after a suffocating and long night. They climbed the stairs, holdings hands every now and then, passing before empty shower rooms with their bright white and blue tiles reflecting the first lights. They passed before closed and ajar doors, all in the dark, soft snores escaping as sleep had won over the numbing heat.

“Why do you keep me ?” Sicheng had asked while settling in Taeyong's bed.

“Because it was not fair of us to keep you out.”

“You didn't, though. I did.”

“It's not just my money Cheng. It's ours. And you belong here now.”

Sicheng could feel it. And he had nowhere to go. He felt good here, in peace. The time he'd spent at his flat, doing what everyone was expecting of him, had ruined him. He wanted to stay with them forever.

“It doesn't have to end” Taeyong murmured while curling on his side.

Ten made sure they were going to bed before escaping without a word, probably to Johnny's room. Sicheng didn't mind. He fell asleep with Taeyong, the sun bathing him like an angel, is bloody hair turned almost white.

“You don't have to run here” Taeyong slurred, his eyes closed, slowly falling deep. “We are here so no one has to run anymore… So don't leave me.”

Sicheng didn't answer. But this time it was okay. It was not even about the money. He belonged here. Here he was both eternal and passing by, mere droplet, but finally back in his ocean.

Somewhere, an early bird turned the radio on and the soft tune of an old western song started floating in the air.

_Now, don't hang on, nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky._

_It slips away, and all your money won't another minute buy,_

_Dust in the wind,_

_All we are is dust in the wind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, please don't forget to kudos and comment.  
> Love, Pony.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this chapter in class and started writing the new one already. i'm a bullet train and I don't feel sorry about it.

 

It probably was the best summer Sicheng had ever lived. He didn't go back to Jeju with his mother, told her he was spending some times with his friends, and she was so happy that he finally bonded with people that she didn't feel it in her to refuse him anything. Staying two months at Jinju was not the kind of vacation that would have been advertized in any holiday agency, and yet Sicheng was the happiest every time he was taking the sub to go back there.

Money really could make a change, he thought afterward. He was sitting on a couch they'd dragged outside, in the shadow of the long tower behind him, and he was sipping on something sugary straight from the bottle. The place was more lively than ever and they could party as much as they wanted everyday. There was always a good reason to celebrate, and when there was none, the simple fact that they _could_ buy drinks and that drinks were actually always stacked somewhere was almost pushing them to party again.

The dreamies were the wildest, obviously, as they'd never had anything, were still slightly too young to go out as much as the olders even though they were out way often and way later than Sicheng had ever been at their age.

He barely came back to his flat. The pricks had not enjoyed his little trip to the police station or his disappearance for a moment, and where waiting before his building entrance almost all the time. But Sicheng didn't need to go there. Every time he would go back to Seoul itself, it would be to start shenanigans or do shopping with Taeyong and Ten. The two olders appeared to be impulsive buyers. Ten bought his weigh in dance clothes and Taeyong loved brand clothes. If he was good to match stuffs together with the little he had before, Sicheng couldn't deny that he was making miracles now that he had whatever he wanted.

They were not stupid either. They knew money would come to run dry. That's why one morning, all the hyungs that had seen the money in the trunk were gathered along with Taeil to decide were to hide the money and how to start some business to make it grow. Mark was not happy with how the events were turning. Sure, he loved to live in a new found luxury and the hedonistic lifestyle it could provide. What was not clicking with him was trusting Lucas with the money too.

“We talked about it already” Taeyong said, his voice down but pointing the annoyed intonations of someone who's said the same thing over and over for a bit too long.

“Why do we need for him to know that ? I'm the dreamies leader, and he asked countless times to be a dreamy. I don't see any other one of them here so why is he so different ?” Mark hissed under his breathe.

“Because he saw the money. What's the point of looking the other way ? He know, and he's trustworthy Mark. I don't consider him more important than you okay ? You're still my Dreamy leader you're the one to report to me on that matter.”

Mark lowered his eyes, defeated. Taeyong massaged the younger's shoulders and brushed their foreheads together before moving back toward Sicheng. The Chinese boy was sitting next to Taeil and playing on their phone while everyone was gathering. Taeil clapped him on the back and left when Taeyong arrived, a habit he'd taken since Sicheng had “permanently” settled at Jinju and on Taeyong's floor. They did not sleep in the same bed, not even in the same room, but were two doors apart and sometimes Taeyong would visit him at night. He was still on to the promise he'd made to Ten and it was never going anywhere. He just liked the thrill of hearing the older's fingers rasp against the door. Something forbidden somehow.

They hide the money that they'd put in different sports bags and swore not to talk about it to anyone else. They trusted everyone within Jinju, it was just to keep them safe. So people stayed safe. Or so is what Sicheng believed – chose to believe. It was very small of course, and it was not reaching him directly, but he could feel a change of feeling withing the place. Mark was not over the fact that Lucas was in on their secret. He could understand the younger's disappointment and fear. Keeping Lucas out would have strengthen Mark's allegiance toward Taeyong, but it would have weakened Lucas, and Lucas, as Taeyong had reasoned, knew about the trunk. So sometimes the atmosphere would turn colder, were Lucas and Mark be in the same room. The Dreamies were conflicted, as they would follow their hyung to the other side of the world, but dearly cherished Lucas. Jungwoo was also an important factor. He was often with the youngers since his soft personality matched well with their more hyper one. And Jungwoo would not leave Lucas.

Sicheng pretended he could get the infatuation Jungwoo was showing to the other, just because it probably hurt him a bit to see of himself in Jungwoo. He was just not in an actual relationship with Taeyong, which was the only difference between the four of them.

Overall, life was a bliss at Jinju. Soon, the dry heat left place for a warm and humid weather, the rain season starting to show up, and with it, less outside activities. The boys would stay inside, their heads hanging out of the window, hoping to catch a breathe of fresh air, still too hot but less stagnant at least than the one within. The showers were packed as well, water flowing all day, connected to the roof to collect rain water and not waste on their own.

But most of the time now, Taeyong and Sicheng would go out and start a network. They were by group of two, most of the elders roaming the streets, exchanging, stealing, betting and showing money off to attract the best sellers. Sicheng was introduced to the Market Place, the underground scene, were people like him would start their illegal business. Sicheng was a bit reluctant to stay there the first time, far from the safety Jinju could provide, far also from the people he knew and forced to talk to new people. He had to memorize countless of paths from every scenes in Seoul and back to Jinju. Now the subway was as familiar as the Complex area, and he would wake up every hour of the day or the night, eat whatever he wanted, then dress up in fancy clothes and go to the train station. The stench or the obscurity was not a problem anymore, and he could take any subways, and end up to the Market Place without even thinking about it. It's as if there was a string pulling him inexorably toward these streets. Most of the time, he did not think about anything. He would fully wake up only when he reached the place, found the people he was now acquainted with, and start working.

His Korean had became almost perfect, mostly in slang and coded word, but bargaining was a part of the job and no one wants to deal with a stuttering punk. He was Taeyong's right arm along with Ten, but was the one to work with him in pair. Ten was with Johnny, Jaehyun and Doyoung, Taeil and Yuta, Lucas and Jungwoo, and Mark and Haechan on really rare occasions since they were still underaged.

Actually, Sicheng never felt like a thief or an outcast. He felt more like a businessman. Waking up, taking the train, working with goods and money, then crashing at a BBQ place with the others to eat. He enjoyed this daily gatherings, but what he liked even better was when the others couldn't make it in time, caught up in a transaction with someone or just too far to eat with them, and so he would order food with Taeyong and they would eat somewhere new every time. It was the case this afternoon. It probably was four pm and the sky was low with white clouds, and the two of them had settled on the rooftop of a building. Taeyong had forced the fence's chain and they'd climbed the outdoor stair with no struggle. The both of them talked about their day, even if they spent most of the time together, it could happen that they split to take two customers at the same time. Money attracts money and their new wealth had gathered people like magnet.

Every good deal was celebrated, the olders with a drink, the youngers by something bought to them or good takeout. Sicheng also knew that celebrations occurred in the intimacy of a closed room, and sometimes at night they could hear the faint echos of happiness turned into pleasure. He was not weirded out anymore by these kind of behaviors. He was not even convinced the people living with him were actually all gay. Maybe had they had a different life in a different place with different people, they would have acted differently. But they'd grown up together, suffered and shouted and teared together, and they knew how it felt like to be alone, to be sad and dirty and forgotten about. The link they had shared in their hurdles was just turned into pleasure, a closeness they'd craved since forever. They would never have a mother like Sicheng had, or even a father, or brothers and sisters to bicker with. They would never have their goodnight kiss or be tucked in bed. They would never be held by a mother, when the sky grows angry and the storm hurls icy rain. It was easy at Jinju to mistake the real cravings, far under the layers of protections everyone had built, and give into easy affection. Doesn't mean they did not truly loved each others. The all loved each others. They just believed what they had was what they wanted.

The warmth of a lover will never compensate the coldness of a child's empty house.

 

*

 

The air was bearable on the roof were Sicheng and Taeyong had settled. They ate Italian food they'd bought from a restaurant Taeil had talked about a week ago, saying it was the best pastas he'd ever had. Taeyong had never eaten Italian before, so Sicheng assured him it was indeed the best Italian meal he'd ever had. The older liked his share so much that he ate half of his plate, before giving it to Sicheng. The Chinese boy had never said anything about Taeyong's eating habits. He was a skinny boy, all sharp angles and edges and bones under smooth skin from starvation, but even now with a financial stability, he didn't seem to have take more than a pound. But it was easy to forget his lanky frame behind his beautiful clothes and his dangerous make up.

“Why don't you fill your eyebrow's scar too ?” Sicheng asked, hinting at the other's makeup.

“To make the idiots talk” Taeyong answered back with a smirk.

Sicheng shrugged as Taeyong sat back from his lying position, his red hair tousled by the wind and sticking in different directions.

“Don't you think it makes me look good ?” He added mischievously.

“I don't think something could make you look bad. I'm conflicted.” Sicheng replied honestly, putting his plate together with Taeyong's.

Taeyong eyed him a moment in silence, before taking a pack of cigarettes out and lighting himself one.

“Want ?” he held the pack to Sicheng but the younger refused, moving the hand away with the tip of his feet.

Taeyong had taken back something that looked like an old habit. A bad one, that is to say, but the way he had to inhale the smoke was not one of a beginner. Sicheng had tried, he'd half strangled himself, had coughed like an old kettle and glared at the Korean man. But he'd taken the habit a bit too, even if he didn't feel the need to smoke every two hours. It was still more like a pleasure, and the nice feeling of looking badass and maybe sexy too. He liked the way Taeyong's lips parted between the cigarette, and he hoped that somewhere the other would look at his mouth the same way he does.

“What are you looking at ?”

“Nothing” Sicheng replied quickly, feigning carelessness and resting back on his outstretched arms.

He closed his eyes and let the air blow on his face when he felt the sun disappear from before him. Taeyong had gotten up and was standing before him, looking down on Sicheng with lidded eyes. The younger's throat went dry. He'd never seen more than Taeyong's arms, ankles and the beginning of his chest was he to wear cleavaged shirt, but now, from beneath and with the wind blowing, he could catch glimpses of his lower stomach and he was hooked on it. Patches of pale skin disappearing every now and then under his oversized shirt. Sicheng wanted to reach forward and touch it, or get on his knees and kiss the expense of flat tummy, know how it feels under his lips, if Taeyong is warm there or if the shivers will make him chill.

His phone ringing teared him out of his revery and he hurried to take his phone out, feeling slightly ashamed of his thoughts, hopping he was not turning red. The phone was an old-school like flip phone that he only used for business. He talked with an authoritative voice and grands airs, as he used to when he was working in the Market Place. Fame and wealth had made them go a bit ahead of themselves and they liked to talk with his friend with a snobby tone, just to play pretend and mock the real businessman outside. He ended the phone call after agreeing on a transaction and waited for the call to be over to exhale, clapping his hands and laughing devilishly.

“So ?” Taeyong asked, his hand in Sicheng's hair and standing right next to him, his cigarette between his parted lips.

“I secured the coke deal with the Chinese seller.”

“I thought Lucas was taking care of him”

“There's two of them if I understood well. Lucas is on something different, I just don't know what it is. Do you ?”

“Yes I do.” Taeyong said, cryptic, not looking at Sicheng. “We need to celebrate that. Taking on the coke market will just expend our network by ten. And we can make the oldest of the dreamies sell some around Jinju area. They'll be so happy !”

Sicheng was miles away from reality, and the idea of finally letting the youngers follow them like they'd begged for for weeks, was just making him proud. He felt also superior, like a mentor, like someone important.

“Good thing we ate pastas today then, the meal was worth the deal.” Sicheng pointed out, a grin on his face “we are just missing beers.”

Taeyong eyed him in silence before kneeling next to him. Their faces were so close that Sicheng could feel his breathe on his face and his heart started throbbing in his chest. It was a quick gesture, he almost didn't see it coming, when Taeyong moved forward and kissed him on the cheek. It shouldn't have been anything, barely a peck, but the shyness Sicheng could feel somewhere in this action just made him lose his mind. It was like a quick retaliation, something he didn't processed before it was happening : Sicheng closed the distance between them and kissed Taeyong right on the lips.

There was a moment of silence where their two mouths were hanging a centimeter apart, Sicheng breathing hard, lips parted and hovering over Taeyong's mouth, wanting nothing but to devour him. He reached for the smaller boy's waist, wanting to touch his stomach with his bare hands, but Taeyong was faster, he pushed Sicheng away but the Chinese boy caught him before he could run away, climbed above him. Taeyong wriggled a bit, his hair splayed against the concrete, bloody strands and pale skin. They panted against each others mouth, Taeyong's hands going for Sicheng's back and holding him tight against him.

Sicheng could have come in his pants just by the look the other boy displayed, lewd, needy and aching for him.


	13. Chapter 13

“Why don't you come back, even for just a few days ?”

Sicheng had tucked his phone between his ear and his shoulder, sitting on the kitchen counter and sending eyebrow messages to Taeyong who was crouching before the dishwasher to load it.

“My mom wants me to go back” he mouthed.

Taeyong frown and said no with his head, pouting slightly while closing the machine to start the program.

“I don't think it will be possible mom” He said back in Chinese, ignoring the disappointment in his mother's exhale.

“Are you with your friends ?”

“Yes we are at a friend's place.”

“School will start soon and we won't be able to see each others before your next break.” she reminded.

Sicheng hummed thoughtfully and left the kitchen to roam the hallways. He had no intentions to go back to uni and it's cramped amphitheaters and boring teachers and equally boring classes and depressed students and expensive fees and mountains of homework. Making good studies to earn money was of no use if he could be loaded by playing in the street and drink at night and sleep late and eat whatever he wants and wear nice clothes and buy makeup and make out in dark alleys when he was lucky enough to catch Taeyong between two customers. But he couldn't say that to his mother.

“Yes, I'm sorry, I forgot and we planned things. But for the next break I swear I'll come over.”

“Good bring your two friends. I'll treat them for bearing you” And she laughed.

Sicheng laughed too and hung up, feeling something sink in his stomach. It was nothing violent or too bad, just an endless disappointment, because he knew Taeyong would never want to leave Seoul. He didn't want back when all they had was the hair salon, he wouldn't now that he's holding a business and has contracts every day and run around to provide for everyone.

Sicheng decided to go back to Taeil's room. The older was watching videos on his computer and looked up at him with a smile when Sicheng made himself comfortable on the bed to watch with him. Yuta showed up soon after, like called by Japanese animation to settle next to them.

“Our Winwin got a day off ?” The Japanese man said when their third episode was loading.

Sicheng had learned that maybe half of the names he'd heard within Jinju were fake names. Lucas, Ten, Haechan, Johnny... It was just working names, and that's how the Chinese boy had understood that they'd been in the business for longer than what he'd thought. His personal nickname had been the prick's choice. One day he'd ran away from a scene in east Seoul, faster than ever and had jumped in the air when he'd felt safe enough, screaming excitedly in hurried Chinese “ _It's a win ! It's a win !_ ”. His joy had been cut off when the pricks had stepped out of nowhere, only catching the English word win out of his sentence and had thus said “Good to see you back Mr. WinWin.” and since then had only referred to him in such terms. The things he'd snatched that day had been used to bargain a discussion between him and the pricks. They had nothing better to offer to him, but he was now a good market partner. He didn't talk about it back in Jinju, just because the pricks had kind of scared Taeyong off that first day they'd met them, and Taeyong was not one to run away from people as he'd learned. Still, it was good to make good business.

“Yeah, but I think I'll just make a quick run for the Market Place tonight. Just to see if there are things to snatch.”

“You never stop” Taeil scoffed, shaking his computer for the charging to go faster.

“What else is there to do ?”

“Go have fun”

Before Yuta could make a salacious comment, Taeil threw a pillow at his head and Sicheng ducked his head to avoid their fight.

“Winwin !” A dramatic cry echoed behind him as he rolled of the bed and ran away like a child.

“Good luck !” he screamed back with a laugh and hopped down the stairs two at a time, almost running into Chenle and Jisung doing weird things under a blanket.

“It's too warm to play under that thing.” Sicheng sneered mockingly.

“Shut it gege we are grown ups.” Chenle's voice came out muffled.

“You can be grown up without the blanket and not in the middle of the hallway, people will run you over.”

No answer came back. Sicheng's curiosity was poked.

“What are you doing ?”

“Nothing” Jisung whined with his low voice.

“Leave gege !”

Sicheng contemplated his options, then bent, took the blanket in his hand and lifted it with a swift move, revealing the two boys, flushed face and disheveled from staying under blanket for so long. Their deer-in-the-headlights looks had nothing to do with being caught under a veil by an older brother. It was not embarrassment their fair complexion was sporting, but a real fear, and maybe the shame of being caught. It troubled Sicheng even more :

“ What is it in your hand ?” he asked with a commanding voice, making himself taller.

When Jisung refused to let go of the think he'd curled around, Sicheng crouched and moved Chenle aside with little consideration. His own worries couldn't suffer any obstacle. Chenle yelped and let go of the thing he was holding. Sicheng put his feet on it and went straight for what Jisung was hiding. He caught the too thin wrists and put them apart until the light reflecting on a piece of aluminum was visible.

“What is this !” Sicheng growled with urgency.

Jisung opened his hands on the go and scrambled away, using Sicheng focus on the object to run away, dragging Chenle behind him. Sicheng dropped on the floor and caught the little package that had fallen, as well as the one he'd kept under his sneacker. The one under his feet was a crumpled piece of aluminum foil, but was still visible the lines where the paper had been bent. It had not been used for food, that he was sure. He examined the other package that seemed intact. It was a little square shaped package, gray and light, probably not more than three centimeters big. He fished it in his back-pocket and made a been line for his room. When he was sure the room was locked, he sat on the chair next to the little table he used as a desk when he ate here and put the package on before opening it with shaking hands. He did not know. He did not know what it could be. No ideas.

Of course.

When a powdery substance fell like snow on his desk, Sicheng froze. He had no idea . He did not know what it was. Never heard about it. Never considered. The downright fear that crashed on his shoulder like cold water was overthrown by an anger that started bubbling within faster than he would have imagined. He closed the package, put it violently in his jean pocket and left the room in furry. He shoulder-checked Taeil in his haze, not even apologizing as he stopped two door further and entered without knocking.

“Sicheng ?” Taeyong jumped, getting up from the windowsill he was sitting on, a phone against his ear.

“Hang up.”

“Wha?- Wait. This is important okay, I get to you when-”

“I said hang up.”

Sicheng didn't know he would have ever talked to someone like this, let alone to Taeyong. At that moment, he felt he could scream on him. He'd already shouted, but always out of fear and never _directly_ at the older. Right now, he didn't feel overwhelmed. His anger was cold inside. He closed the door with his foot and threw the package on the older's bed. Taeyong's stare followed the arabesque of the little object and his eyes widened when he recognized it landing on the mattress. He hung up, his serious look crumpling for the first time as he stepped closer to the bed. He didn't take it in his hand, he didn't look at Sicheng, so the younger made a move.

“What the fuck is this Taeyong ?” he asked icily.

“Where did you find that ?

Taeyong was back to his leader stance, eyes warry.

“You don't get to ask the questions this time !”

“Don't go around acting like they are your people before they are mine!” The older snapped, shoulders tight.

“It simmered Sicheng a bit but he refused to let Taeyong step on him. It was too big.

“Jisung and Chenle had it, and they know they shouldn't have. They tried to hide it from me and ran away when I caught it.”

Taeyong took his head in his hands, pacing in the room anxiously and tousling his red hair.

“Did you- Do you know were they found it ? Did they- Did they bring it from outside or-”

“I don't know. But you know what _that_ is.” Sicheng retaliated with venom. “And you know more than what you pretend.”

Taeyong turned in circle for a moment before flopping on the mattress, taking the package in his hand, his shoulders slumped.

“I thought we only dealt with coke, and nothing should come here. What is this shit doing here ?” Sicheng said lower, standing tall before Taeyong.

“Remember Lucas' client ? He didn't tell you what he was working on but I told you I knew.”

Sicheng hummed. Taeyong dropped his forehead against the younger's belt, guilt creeping up his features.

“What is it hyung ?”

“Chinese opium market ?” the small voice answered, almost a question.

“Lucas is dealing with opium ?” Sicheng's voice asked incredulously calm.

“Heroin. It's heroin.”

“You brought heroin into Jinju.”

“No !” Taeyong defended himself vigorously, lifting his head and looking Sicheng dead in the eyes, black orbs shining fiercely.

“”Yukhei only deals with his client over the phone, and the exchange places are always different. Nothing must reach Jinju area and no one comes home with the goods we sell. I don't know how it reached the dreamies.”

Sicheng huffed, wanting to grab the older's doll face and shake it until he faints. He took a step back but Taeyong anchored him to his spot by grabbing his hips.

“Hyung” Sicheng warned weakly, brows furrowed.

“I'm worry. It's such a lucrative business. And we have a China Line to discuss of the terms with the sellers.” The red haired angel provided, punctuating each of his sentences with a kiss on Sicheng's lower stomack above his shirt.

“Why didn't you tell me ? Don't I speak Chinese ?” the younger's anger was now of a different kind.

Uglier, selfish.

“I didn't want to tell you.”

“You don't trust me.” it was not a question.

“No” Taeyong stoop up, his forehead now against his shoulder, eyes shut tight in remorse and kissing Sicheng's neck every now and then. To sooth him. “I was just scared of your reaction. I thought if you didn't know it would spare you the worry. I don't want you to leave.”

“Do you think I would leave now, after everything ? This is my home here too.”

“I know... I'm sorry, I was just scared okay ? I fucked.”

Sicheng kept an aloof facade but was beaming inside. The ugly side of him was growing a malevolent smile, not hearing the danger of the situation but focusing on Taeyong clinging onto him.

“Bring Chenle and Jisung up. Ask them about it.” Sicheng said, back to being Taeyong's second, and more importantly, his confident.

“That's what I was thinking of doing. I'll also call Yukhei. He's the one in charge of the H transfer after all. It should never have reached Jinju and if something messed it's from him first.”

Taeyong called Lucas first. The guy arrived in no time, face serious but not concerned. His features dropped when he spotted Taeyong and Sicheng sitting in different places of the room and waiting for him. When the older showed what they'd found, Yukhei's face turned white. Literally white. Then, as they kept on talking and question, he turned a sickening yellow, eyes widened and full of guilt. If something had been brought here, it only could be by accident. Lucas sincerely looked terrified, pacing in the room the same way Taeyong had, but more agitated, his fingers trembling. They let him leave and the echos of his apologize where still bouncing in the walls of the hallway when Taeyong called for Jisung and Chenle. Sicheng didn't stay in the room during the time the leader lectured them, but he caught them when they exited, red eyes and slumped shoulders.

“Ge ?” Chenle chirped, his voice a bit strangled, when he spotted his older.

“If it's to lecture us again you can refrain hyung” Jisung added, already dragging his friend behind him to take the stairs.

“Wait, I'm not angry, I just want to ask a question.”

The two blondes shared skeptical looks.

“Where did you really find it ? The drug ?”

“You've talked to Taeyong-hyung and Lucas-hyung. What's the point ?”

“Because I don't think you found it in Lucas' room.”

Lucas had been too distraught, too quick at shouldering the blame, far from his usual bravado. Had he been guilty, he probably would have tried to keep some pride and shrug it off, even if just a little bit. Sicheng had first thought it was for the issue to settle. The three of them in that room knew that if Mark heard about it, something involving Lucas putting his dreamies in danger, all waters would break lose and the intestinal war that was boiling would find stronger roots. But Lucas had had tears in his eyes, his heart in his throat. Beaten down.

“We found it in his room” Jisung assured “he saw us leave the place and he panicked and hushed us outside.”

“And he didn't ask if you'd taken anything ?”

“Nop.” Chenle said low.

“He closed the door and asked us if we'd seen Jungwoo” Jisung added thoughtful.

“But we didn't see him !”

“No no we swear !”

“I believe you, I believe you” Sicheng repeated, even more confused than before. “Thanks.”

He let them go and went for his room. He packed lightly, sent a text to Taeyong telling him he was going back to his flat to check something then, passed by the stash to take a bit of money.

“Can you meet up tonight ?” he asked over the phone.

“At 9 as usual” the prick answered and the line was cut.

Coming back to his apartment made him feel strange. The streets were like the map seen once in a foreign dream, a place he'd evolved in once but didn't click with anymore. Opening the door to his room sent a pang to his heart. The stagnant air had left a rotten smell, deep in the walls, the couch and the furniture. He opened the window to the balcony, fetched the clothes still hanging on the line, dry since a bit too long and stiff from such sun exposure. He looked over the rest of his clothes neatly folded in the drawer under the sofa-bed and cringed at it. Everything was ugly. Two months of extravagance had used him to better than free-size unbranded shirts and pants. He closed it and waited for the meeting hour, trying not to think about this place that still held too many bad memories, hopelessness clinging to the wallpapers like moist. He hated it. It was too little and too empty.

When it was time, he exited the place and jogged in the street leading to the Super Market. The sun was starting to set and the streets were filled with soon to be students, families and couples making as much of the last days of summer. He left the larger roads in favor or quieter streets were the sun didn't reach and where the air was a bit cooler. He arrived in no time in his scene area and waited at his usual spot for the pricks to show up. He was checking his phone when a soft voice stopped him:

“Sicheng-ah ?”

“Oh, Jungwoo.” Sicheng replied dumbly “What are you doing here ?”

Jungwoo lifted his white plastic bag:

“Went grocery shopping after finishing work. I thought today was your day off though.”

Sicheng discretely looked above the tall boy's shoulder to make sure the pricks were not coming around :

“I lived nearby. Had a little fight with Taeyong and needed some fresh air so I thought about coming back here.”

“Ah” the other hummed comprehensively. “It happens to Yukhei and I too, I understand.

Time was ticking but the mention of Lucas gave Sicheng an idea :

“Oh by the way, you remind me, Lucas was looking for you this afternoon, I don't know if he texted you ?”

“He didn't ? It's probably not important. I'll go see that then !”

Sicheng had wanted to see the Korean's reaction just out of paranoia but the smile that had lighted his tired features was of no help. Jungwoo was just helplessly kind and caring.

“Come back home soon Cheng-ah” The other threw behind his back as he left airily.

Sicheng waved then exhaled as the two pricks showed up. All he learned from he Heroin market was its provenance ; China, and the name of the guy leading the group organizing the selling ; Kwon Jiyong.

“He's young and crooked.”

“Crooked ?” Sicheng had inquired.

“In his head.” the smaller of the two supplied.

It had not exactly helped Sicheng. A thirty year old nut-brained was leading the heroin monopole in Seoul. From his point of view, it probably was not the best idea in the world to try to take on this market if such crazy guy was already warming the chair.

“Why do you bother ?”

“Just heard things going on. Don't want people to start fucking around, that's it.”

“Y'all little friends better not start running around too much.”

“We don't touch that shit.” Sicheng shrugged, condescending.

“That's what they all say.” The taller sneered before turning around and leaving with his friend.

Sicheng stayed there for a moment, thoughtful. _That's what they all say_. As if talking about consuming and not just selling. _We don't touch that shit_. He could see Chenle and Jisung, a fix in their young hands. A sense of dread ran through his entire body and he went back to his flat walking slower than ever. He needed to think about everything. Lucas' deal, Chenle and Jisung, confronting everyone, and the prick so inclined to speak. Money can loosen everyone's tongue. Sicheng still felt like he'd wasted his money. He stopped by a squat he knew could sell bibimbap at the best price in the area.

“Onew-hyung ?” he asked when he arrived before the counter.

The orange-haired man turned around, his jovial face lighting up when he saw him. He dried his hands on his apron before sliding next to him :

“WinWin, it's been a while !”

“It's been a week.”

“You get old in a week.”

Onew really was the oldest of his group, always thinking about aging too soon.

“I have a question actually.”

“Oh.” Onew's face turned serious a moment, his bright eyes going from crescent moon to attentive orbs.

“Do you know where I could find something like this ?”

He handed the crumpled paper from the fix he'd found, making sure no more drug was inside. The skin around Onew's eyes tightened, but he took the aluminum nonetheless. The examination didn't last that long as he turned toward the kitchens and asked for the other guy making food with him :

“D.O. ?”

Kyungsoo, a small but fierce man with an intent stare and dark eyebrows, stepped out of the steam around the stoves. He didn't need to get close. He threw a glance above the counter, weeping the sweat from his glowing forehead, his nose crumpling and his brows furrowing before turning back quickly.

“I can't help you on this. Don't bring it in Onew's establishment.”

Sicheng's lips made a tight line and he nodded.

“If it is what I think it is, I'd rather you drop that somewhere and forget about it.” Onew said softly, worries painted in his pretty eyes.

“It's not for me hyung” Sicheng quickly countered, unable to bear the shame he would carry was he to bring this to Onew to make business out of it. “It's not to sell, I just have questions about it. I've heard things. Don't wanna be left behind. You know we can't be left behind.”

The older stared at him, scanning his features and looking into his eyes as if to make sure he's telling the truth. Sicheng didn't know what kind of face to make to make Onew understand that he was not bullshiting his way out of this.

“If there's someone with answers for you it must be Taemin...”

Onew let his sentence die, smile tight and throat clogged by grief.

“When was the last time you saw him ?”

“Last month. He passed by like a hurricane. I know he still comes back to Minho, and Minho reports to me, but I can't help but feel like it's my fault.”

Sicheng didn't know what to tell the older boy. Onew's group had been in the scene for over ten years now, and the amount of tragic loss had just wore Taemin thin.

“We've had a troubled winter... And it's my fault.”

“You're not to blame for the loss you suffered this year. You make enemies in this life and you shouldn't shoulder everything just because you're leading your group.”

“I failed Taemin.”

“Do you think Suho failed Kris, Lu and Tao ?” had asked Kyungsoo voice coming from the kitchen. “No. It is not your burden to carry when the outside world is a bitch with a gun.”

 

*

 

Sicheng thought about it when coming back home in sub. The string pulled him mechanically toward Jinju once again, leaving full room for the questions in his head to find answers. Maybe he could find Taemin. But the older guy was as dangerous as he was unpredictable. Last time he'd seen him, he was running out of a grocery shop, a bag in his hand, probably a gun in the other, and disappeared inside of a car. Bleached blond hair, electric blue eyes and a large hoodie sweater above his skinny frame. Did Onew failed his little boy ? Maybe somehow.

At that time, the life Taemin was living was a foreign one. Sicheng was not like this, and neither was his group. They had clean business, made money by selling stuffs and just drank a bit when going home. No harm done, they were all good and in control. The Chinese boy felt superior. He had his life in his hands, a house to come back to and no need to punch someone in the face not to get stabbed in the back. There life was all about feeling superior, all high and mighty. He just didn't realize that yet, unable to see what Taeyong was slowly going forward.

You don't know how presumptuous you are when everything is fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, please don't forget to kudos and comment !  
> Love, Pony.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the week-end so I'm not writing as fast as in week-days, don't ask, I only write when I'm in class.  
> Also rating will probably change next chapter to Explicit. If not next one, it will be later, but I don't keep it at just Mature I think.  
> Enjoy.

Life probably was playing with him. The long skinny silhouette that got inside the train as Sicheng was falling asleep had a hood on their head and bleached strands sticking out of it. Sicheng looked in his pocket for the crumpled paper and squeezed his way toward Taemin, facing the doors, his hands deep in the pockets of his sweater, probably toying with a switch blade.

“Taemin-hyung !” he whispered anxiously.

The silhouette didn't move for a moment, then the head slowly turned backward and icy blue eyes scanned Sicheng. Taemin's face un-tightened and his mouth turned into his feature lopsided smile.

“I know your face” he said with a laugh in his voice, speaking low.

“But you don't know my name ?” Sicheng tried to joke back to feel less anxious.

Taemin's face grinned sassily, looking aside. There was a boy around Sicheng's area in the market that always remembered face but never group's names. Sicheng's group didn't have a name, so it had greatly confused the bunny boy.

“I know face but I don't know name” Taemin mimicked. “What do you want ?” he added with an edge on his voice.

Taemin was a cat sleeping with an open eye, so you always had to eeep the both of yours open not to get scratched. Sicheng stepped closer and pressed the paper against the older's hand. Taemin cocked his head without even looking at it. He turned it around in his hand, away from other people's curious stares, then gave it back to Sicheng :

“Are you messing with Jiyong ?”

“Not really but now I'm sure it's him.”

“What do you mean “sure” ?”

“The pricks told me.”

Taemin made eye contact with him, as if considering whether he should speak up or not.

“You are with Taeyong right ? Anyway, stop doing what you're doing. That's my stop.”

Sicheng was still a bit troubled by this revelation, but as Taemin exited the wagon, he yelled :

“Onew misses you !”

Sicheng often forgot that Taemin was just a boy, but the look he earned, halfway between raging violence and the helplessness of a child, couldn't be mistaken.

 

*

 

“Do you know Kwon Jiyong ?”

Sicheng was sprawled on Taeyong's bed. The smaller boy was facing toward the window and showing his back to him.

“We know a lot of people here.” He answered sleepily. “Why ?”

“Just heard here and there. Don't know him though.”

Taeyong hummed, his arm moving to turn the page of his magazine.

“Onew-hyung called me. He said you'd passed by.”

“Yeah, was hungry.”

“You didn't tell me what you did at your place.”

“Cheated on you.”

Taeyong huffed, turned around and mockingly glared at him. Sicheng wasn't going to talk about it, so the other didn't push the matter any further.

“There's already someone on the heroine market. Why should we take over ?”

“It makes money.”

“It'll bring troubles.”

“You don't know that.” Taeyong pointed out, throwing his magazine on the other side of the room.

His hand fell back on his hip and he rolled on his back to flatten himself against Sicheng's side. The Chinese boy was texting on his personal phone, eyes focused on the screen. Taeyong's bony and veiny hands danced before his face to catch his attention.

“Do you wanna try something with me ?”

Sicheng's fancy was totally caught.

“Try something ?”

Taeyong scouted closer en put his head on Sicheng's chest, tapping the shirt with one of his long fingers.

“You know, one of the good thing when you're on a market is that you can have what you sell just for yourself.”

“It fails the purpose of selling things to make money.” Sicheng pointed out, not liking where the conversation was going all of a sudden.

“You know coke isn't that bad.”

Sicheng stayed still, not knowing whether to warn Taeyong or be angry.

“What do you mean.” it was not a question.

He looked down at the mop of bright red hair on his chest. The head moved a bit, before rising toward him. They locked eyes and the big round orbs stared at him like a child knowing he can be scolded but still wants to try.

“We tried with Ten.”

Sicheng closed his eyes.

“And Taeil-hyung.”

“Taeil-hyung ?”

This time Sicheng was seriously surprised. Taeyong hummed and nibbled at Sicheng's shirt, still looking at him from the corner of his makeup-ed eye : eyeliner and shiny red eyeshadow.

“I want to try with you ?”

“Why would you. You already started with them you don't need me to continue.”

“I don't lie in bed with Ten or Taeil.”

Righteously speaking, he did. They all did. But Sicheng understood.

 

*

 

“It was easy to misunderstand things at Jinju, and I was good at analyzing my peers but really bad at questioning myself. You can call that hubris. It was.”

Sicheng's voice was hoarse. The cop before him was scratching his forehead, lying back on his chair. The Chinese boy didn't know how to explain. He didn't have the words to speak to this man, or to any others now. He looked at his hands, tried to erase the blood, couldn't understand how it had arrived there. He'd believed he was in control. That he was a good boy. That nothing that he was doing was bad when the other groups were just punks and rejects. Looking down on them. He was better than the dropouts, then the thieves, then the idiots taking drugs for fun. He'd judge Taeyong for his stealing, then Taemin for his violence. Maybe he just really hated himself all along, and spitting on other people's back, and comparing himself to them was just a way to make himself feel better, or to admit somewhere that he hated the one he'd become.

But he couldn't say that. Not to this cop, not even to commandant Sooman. There was no one left in this free world that could understand him now.

 

*

 

Sicheng took drugs for the first time on the last day of summer, a few months before turning twenty. His first time was really nice. He'd tried in his room with Taeyong and they'd spent the funniest night. Kun had opened the door to complain about the noise of their laughs and had been hushed out with a bed lamp flying in his direction.

His second time had been terrible, but because his first time had been so nice, he'd tried again a third and a fourth because he _knew_ it could be amazing. Probably that this first good experience had been a part of the downfall. Once again Sicheng was hiding under the covers, he would have tried again anyway. Because the hyungs had it good, more than they had it bad. Ten and Yuta were besties around Johnny when they were high. Sicheng was almost expecting for Mark and Lucas to go on a honeymoon the day they try it too.

It was not fair for the Dreamies to see them stone most of the time, thus Taeyong had let them drink alcohol. Alcohol wasn't that bad, it was better than giving them drugs, Sicheng reassured himself. Not that he was worried of anything, none of them were. They were too far gone, too disconnected of the world outside of Jinju, and it was too nice to just close his eyes on everything.

Everything was easy at Jinju.

They made a little less money on coke but thanks to the H market they still had good intakes. Ten had cut Taeil's hair into a badass undercut with nice buzzed shapes, had redone Taeyong's fading red dye and had taken care of Sicheng's brown.

“Black is too hard on your face, pretty boy” Ten had sing-songed.

They felt filthy rich, eating everyday, running errands all day and night, staying in shape, branded clothes and bold makeup on. They were the prettiest in the area. _Neo got my back_ was a battle chant no one could pretend not to know. It had become harder to have a spot on the market since they'd flooded the streets of Seoul, cars passing and blaring the low and dangerous tune to make the young punks scatter.

Sicheng emerged from an underground station's mouth when he spotted Key.

“Why did you want to talk to me ?” Sicheng asked warily when they were close enough.

He had a name in this scene, but Kibum was still older than him, and the echoes of his name carried further.

“I thought about what you said last time to Taemin. Jiyong. Kwon Jiyong, how do you know him ?”

“I've heard he was leading the heroin market. And I found fixes within our area. Why ?”

Key's gorgeous feline features were serious and his almond eyes focused, scanning him the way Taemin had just to wonder whether he should talk to him or not. It was unnerving in some ways, as Sicheng had traveled all this way to speak to Key and was in a territory that wasn't exactly his. But he knew that nothing comes for free and if your name can't open every door then you have to bang on it. Key, Taemin, Taeyong, Jiyong, they just have to show up and the doors open. But Sicheng is no dangerous man like the two formers and no leader like the two laters.

“Jiyong and Taeyong.” Key mewls, half enjoying himself but his face still straight “they were a _thing_.”

“A _thing_ ?”

“The only kind of _thing_ that matters to be mentioned.”

Sicheng felt like he was being toyed with and he particularly hated that, but he tried not to show that.

“Why do you tell me that ?”

“Aren't you a thing ?”

“No.”

“Then let me tell you a thing or two.” Kibum hummed as he got closer, smaller than Sicheng but still the one in power. “There are people running around this town with heroin in their pockets and they don't belong to Jiyong's. He's too busy with the money he lost for the moment, but he has eyes everywhere and soon enough the punks breaking sugar on his back will just hang by the neck on display from every street-lights.”

Sicheng gulped. You don't play it to Almighty Key. You just don't.

“Lost money ?”

“And a _car_ ” the older purred low, a smile creeping on his gorgeous Cheshire mouth.

“I'll talk about it with Taeyong” Sicheng said as seriously as he could, looking Key dead in the eyes and folding his arms. “Maybe we can investigate on that too. We don't need new fights between groups.”

“No we don't” the other sing-songed “But listen closely, war is banging on your front door Neo-boy.”

“What do you mean ?”

He seemed to think about it for a moment, hand on his chin, brows furrowed in mock concentration, then just asked :

“How many of you are Neos ?”

“What the fuck, we are all neos.” Sicheng bite back, not liking the tone used to speak about his people. “We take everyone in, no one his left behind.”

Kibum's features changed all of a sudden, the dark meanness replaced by a candid smile :

“Nice makeup by the way.”

And with that he was gone. Like Sicheng's air. The moment the man was out of sight, Sicheng caught himself against the barrier protecting the sidewalk. He heaved, his heart throbbing in his throat, blood ringing in his hears. He needed to move, and right now. He helped himself on the fence and bolted for the subway mouth, cursing himself for smoking before coming, the walls turning like a rolling tube as he wobbled in the hallways, pushing people on his way and catching himself against the walls. Hopefully, going to Jinju was part of his DNA, and he would have found his way back even in the dark. He changed trains three times, went out and saw the towers rising against the bright sky. Running to Hall E was something he didn't remember doing but did, as he tumbled in the entryway, scaring Jeno and Jaemin sitting on a corner on blankets and chatting animatedly.

“Where is Taeyong ?”

the youngers stuttered some I don't knows but Sicheng was already taking the stairs. His breathing was shorter than ever, on the verge of a respiratory failure, but he kept moving, ignoring the nausea that rose within, whether from the anxiety or from the drug intake.

“Taeyong !” he cried, the sound bouncing in the staircase, making door opens and head shot up.

Key knew they'd stolen the money and probably that they were on the heroin market and stepping on Jiyong's neat business line. They needed to move the money and make sure everyone was safe. All the Neos. He needed to warn Taeyong, find Taeyong, protect him.

He was about to take another flight of stairs when steps caught his attention. He saw the running shadow of a boy racing the hallway. When he turned back to check if Sicheng was watching him, he hesitated for a mere second, their eyes locked, both unmoving. _How many of you are Neos ?_ It was not so much the question that should have bugged him than its implication. No on in Jinju should be a deer caught in the headlights. Unless… _How many of you are not ?_

A snitch.

“Lucas ?”

Yukhei was starring at him, muscles tensed, ready to save his life, eyes bulging out and breath erratic. Sicheng didn't think twice. He ran after him and Yukhei jumped, but his reaction was not what Sicheng was expecting. Rather than running in the opposite direction, the younger raced up the hallway, screaming like a madman and collided violently with the Chinese boy. The brutality knocked the air out of Sicheng's lungs and they both crouched down.

“What the fuck !” Sicheng howled, his tone pitching up.

“Go away ge !” Lucas caught his ankle and dragged him down.

They wrestled like this for a moment, both earning a black eye and some nice bruises. The older had spotted the ajar door that Lucas was looking at every now and then ; his room. That's why he'd run on him, to stop him before he could reach his bedroom. Every attempt to get to the door ended with a kick and a grabby hands and scratches on his arms. Eventually, Sicheng knocked Lucas out with an uppercut in the jaw. The younger fell on the ground, his vision zoning in and out, his mouth bleeding and his hand weakly trying to stop Sicheng as he stepped above the defeated body for the room. He opened the door wide and started running around the room, but nothing seemed out of place, until he caught the light under the bathroom's door. Hearing Yukhei's heavy footsteps in the hallway, he grabbed the penknife he kept in his pocket and pushed the door with the flat of his foot, stomping in the secluded place, violence on his face, danger in his hand.

Deer in the headlights. One too many.

Sicheng's heart stopped, as if the boy crawling before him had personally punched it with his fist. Jungwoo sat down difficultly, helping himself against the hedge of the bathtub. The soft boy's face was wide with terror, his bulging eyes starring at the blade, sickness on his complexion and tiredness in his features. Sicheng was too shocked by what he was seeing to lower his knife. He just stayed in the doorway, hand raised, processing slowly the sight of such a gentle boy struggling on the ground like an animal, his forehead shining with sweat, his hair stucking on it, pupil like a pin's head and chapped lips.

Lucas pushed him aside as hard as he could and Sicheng didn't even try to stop the other Chinese boy when he jumped over him and positioned himself before Jungwoo.

“Leave him alone !” he begged, his arms splayed like a shield, kneeling in front of his boyfriend whose gaze was slowly becoming unfocused, breathing slowing, head lolling against the bathroom sink.

Sicheng's shoulders slumped. He closed the door by fitting his fingers between the floor and the bottom of the door and when it clicked, he let his knife fall.

It was a not his snitch-identity Lucas had been protecting all this time. Sicheng wanted to cry, because of all the violence he'd seen and endured in the streets this past months, the sight of a boy holding onto another with all the pain of the world painted on his face probably was the worst ever.

On the ground next to Jungwoo's thigh, pushed over by the ruckus, were lined a spoon, a lighter and an empty crumpled paper. The sterile light of the bathroom neon was reflecting on the needle still stuck in his right arm.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't do drugs. Seriously. I love Jungwoo with all my heart ah.  
> Love, Pony.

Sicheng stayed more often at Jinju after that. It was his way of unconsciously confining himself in the secret he was keeping. Jungwoo was a deeper secret than what he was letting show, and his softness or blandness had just always been his biggest alibi.

“I took heroin for the first time when I was 13” he admitted one night when Sicheng was sitting in one of the empty rooms, Lucas smoldering his lover with an anxious attention.

Pain was a constant line on his face, sometimes well blended in all his outside bravado, but never fully covered.

“How ?” Sicheng asked

“It was there” Jungwoo shrugged simply, his gentle eyes going over the furniture in the room without paying real attention to it. “First I drank. At ten I could stay out until eleven or midnight. And I was tall for my age, so it was easier. Then I smoked some pot, around eleven. At twelve it was trips.” Jungwoo was absent-mindedly counting on his fingers, Lucas following the movement with the face of someone who has replayed this story one too many times. “And at thirteen I tried heroin.”

“Wasn't it scary ?” Sicheng said, unable to hide the hatred he had for needles.

“I sniffed for… two years ? Oh no, maybe less, a year and a half. I was scared of the needle haha. I was fourteen ! Who isn't afraid of needles at that age ?”

Sicheng didn't answer because he couldn't help but picture a fourteen year old Jungwoo, with bigger eyes and a kinder mouth, but deep eye-bags and hollowed cheeks. He didn't understand how this hyung had remained this kind.

He had promised Lucas he wouldn't speak about Jungwoo's addiction to Taeyong. It would just make the quiet boy in danger, and if he'd been clean for a while, he'd fallen back mainly because Neo's had started messing with the wrong powder. Sicheng couldn't help but feel bad, even if Jungwoo had told him if he'd fallen it was his fault. Even Lucas, apart, had told Sicheng that it was older than their arrival on the market.

“So that's why you dealt with that Chinese seller ?”

Lucas didn't answer, he looked at Jungwoo's closed door, the light still on but the boy sound asleep, his skin a sad yellow but his expressions always warm.

“So you can look upon who Jungwoo buys his fixes from ?”

Sicheng didn't get an answer. It was an answer in itself.

 

The problem with his promise to Lucas was that he couldn't talk Taeyong into leaving the heroin market, but he had talked about his suspicions about a snitch within Jinju.

“We've known each others for forever. Most of us are coming from Jinju itself. Key is a black cat that brings bad luck. Don't listen to him.”

“I'm sorry.”

Taeyong's shoulders slumped and he turned toward Sicheng, his face unreadable, doe eyes not quite as malicious as before.

“You called your mom ?” he asked moving next to the open window to catch some air for himself.

“No… Why ?”

“I like the person you are when you call her.” Taeyong shrugged, trying to play it off but not managing to trick Sicheng.

“What do you mean ?”

“Sometimes I feel like it's the only moment you look like before.”

the younger frowned, anxious that he was not to Taeyong's liking anymore. At this moment he was ready to crawl on the flood for the beautiful man before him to take him in.

“I thought you liked us better like this ?”

“I like this” the red-haired man said, making a wide move with arm “I like that we can eat whenever we want, or that we can go shopping with the youngest, or that we can buy luxurious makeup. I like the phones and stupid things we buy just because we want to, and the busy days. We don't dread the rain season anymore, there's always something to do, and no one hates to go home anymore.”

Sicheng moved closer, at arms length but not touching yet. Taeyong presented his back to the window, leaning with his arms on the window sill, his hair swept by the wind :

“Then what ?” Sicheng inquired, gulping.

“I just don't know where we are going… The drawbacks are just showing and… I don't know if I can protect everyone ? I have this thoughts, they just pass by, and they disappear quickly, but when I have them I just… don't know what to do. We are struggling to stand our grounds. We come back home with bruises more often than not. Jaehyung arrived with a broken nose, Doyoung has a black eye, I'm not talking about how you scared me when you showed up with Lucas with both your faces crammed.”

Sicheng stepped closer and put his chin on Taeyong's shoulder, breathing slowly through his nose. He didn't know what to tell him at this moment. It seems like Taeyong wanted to be comforted but he didn't want to hear that he probably was right. And Sicheng didn't have it in him to lie to him, because he wouldn't have believed his words either. That's also why he couldn't tell Taeyong about Jiyong, or push further with the snitch, or tell him that Jungwoo was hooked on heroin.

“What do you want to do then hyung ? Slowing down ?”

“I don't know...” _I don't think I can._ “There's so little time when I feel myself.”

“You know it's the drugs making you feel that way... It makes you sad when you don't take any.” Sicheng rocked him softly, his hands around his petite waist as he looked through the window.

It was late september, summer had washed away like a skyrocket, and none of them could really remember any of it. The feast, the glitters, the hits and runs, it only left a sand-like taste in their mouth.

Sicheng hadn't showed up to class on the first day, nor on the second, or the third. Three weeks in and we was still in Jinju, answering the phone, checking on Jungwoo and ending up stone with Taeyong and some of the olders. Their cocain business was definitely dropping but still making intakes and the heroin market was fairly enough for them to live nicely. They'd ran away from food shops and had almost been caught once because Ten had crashed badly from his trip, hallucination striking. It's only later that they'd learned he was sober at that time. Taking drugs was no longer a fun time to make, stay hyped for a moment, blare loud music and dance until your heart feels like it's going to explode. They needed a bit more every time to reach the same climax and it was getting harder and harder. None of them wanted to ask for a bit more but they all came around the stash to blow some more. They had it bad, but it was still good, so good, other people couldn't understand.

“How about we stay clean tonight ?” Sicheng dropped, uncertain.

Taeyong looked at him and his stare was soft, pupils human, his mouth stretching in a little smile :

“We can stay here tonight, I'll make Johnny and Ten take care of everything. We can rest for one night right ?”

“No drugs.”

“No drugs. It can't hurt to slow down a bit, it doesn't mean anything.”

“No of course.”

They went down to the kitchen and fixed themselves a meal for the first time in forever. They were never hungry nowadays and only ate when they were in Seoul, living off of drinkable yogurts and the donuts sold in one of their favorite street. Going to food shops always ended in wasted food and too much soju.

Mark already was in the kitchen, trying to sober up with Donghyuck, engulfing toast after toast to sponge the beers in their stomach. They groaned to each others in lieu au hello and settled on the table.

“So...” Taeyong sighed, reading the instructions on the back of a pre-cooked eggplant gratin, trying to figure out how to eat it.

“We need to preheat the oven.”

“We don't have an oven.”

“And here dies our attempt at cooking something decent.”

Mark and Donghyuck are looking at them with glossy eyes, chewing mechanically and probably upset with how unfunctional their hyungs are.

In the end they drank a soup they heated in the microwave with some instant rice also thrown in the microwave. It almost exploded and Sicheng burned the tip of his tongue but they laughed a lot and when the youngest left the place they started to clean the dishes but mostly groped each others.

Sicheng could almost forget about the whole Jiyong and Taeyong thing Key had talked about, but he gripped the older's hip a bit tighter and panted a bit closer to his mouth, never kissing, never going too far. But something was missing.

“We could smoke something” Sicheng whispered in Taeyong's ear as they were rutting against each others.

“Just some pot yeah...” Taeyong agreed, already giving up on his own words.

“Pot is nothing.”

“Yeah it can't hurt.”

They ended up in Sicheng's room, windows all open, smoking on his bed then falling against one another, rocking softly on the other's body, nicely gone, their heads on the same pillow and just the good amount of friction to build a desire they can't commit to.

 

*

 

It was 5am and the sun was not there yet, its first rays barely breaking the dark inked sky, but the black definitely was turning a softer blue. The air was still a bit chill, the heat not settling and Sicheng was blowing smoke, his cigarette hanging between his lips. He'd lighted one just out of boredom, not hooked on it like Taeyong and just looking for something to keep him awake. His last intake had been last night when he left Jinju and he was just feeling slightly sore and his body completely tired now that it was out of it's adrenaline shoot. He was in the Market Place with the olders, Ten, Johnny, Taeil, Jaehyun, Doyoung, Yuta and for the second time, Mark was out with Haechan this time. They were just watching how their hyungs were working and from time to time Sicheng would explain something in Chinese for the youngest. Jungwoo and Lucas where there too and the older of the two had left about twenty minutes ago to take his fix.

“It takes fifteen minutes to kick in. He should be back soon.” Lucas was mumbling, shielding his cigarette from the wind.

“Why don't you stay around him ?”

“He did it a long time before we met. He can do it without me. And it would be suspicious.”

“Just say you're having sex.”

Lucas hummed, pocketing his lighter and looking at the lightning sky, his hands deep in his pockets.

“Do you think someone else knows ?” Sicheng inquired.

Lucas shook his head : “sooner or later they would have come to me or to Jungwoo... or to Taeyong. Plus there's nothing that could betray him, except the fixes themselves. Everyone around the place has a lighter, he eats yogurts for dinner so he can bring the spoon back in his room without raising attention and since it's liquid food he doesn't make any sounds when he pukes it. And he has needles all around town in hidden places only he knows about. So yeah, eating in his room, keeping the spoon for his morning fix and boom. Undercover.”

“There's nothing worse than finally finding a fix and missing a needle.” Jungwoo says with his kind voice, his straight hair growing out on his forehead.

He pushes it back, his trembling whole-d up hand revealing his parched skin.

“How do you hide a needle ?” Sicheng mused a bit incredulous, stirring his coffe cooling in a plastic cup.

“They are really small, insulin shots you see ? So yeah. In a public bathroom, behind a mirror, stuck under a café's table, in the crack of a wall. There are more needles in this city than in a hospital.”

The Chinese boy casted the Hong-kongese one a glance but he was just seeping on his own coffee, cigarette hanging between two fingers.

“I'm fine Sicheng” Jungwoo reassured truthfully.

“If he wants to stop he stops.” Lucas added, non-committal.

Sicheng was done debating on that matter for the single reason that he had no point to make since Jungwoo was the first heroin addict he'd ever met. And it was way different than what he'd always had in mind. It was an intricate mixture of of incredibly well thought organization to conceal his addiction and on the other hand a state of total denial of the situation. You wouldn't work so hard hiding something if you truly were convinced that what you are doing is shallow. Smoking pot is shallow, Sicheng thinks for himself. It was fine, just like having a switchblade in your pocket for safety. As long as you don't wave it around like Taemin...

They were not rejects. They had a home, didn't sleep in car's backsits, didn't steal for a leaving. Honestly, they were fine, he was a business boy in a group of friends. He didn't understand the people in denial. _Your are in denial when you know deep down that something is bad_ Taeyong had said one morning that they were lying in bed with Ten. Speaking of which :

“Someone has seen Ten ?”

“Spotted him back from the public toilets.” Jungwoo chirped, the drug in his veins kicking in the right way after twenty minutes “With Johnny.”

Sicheng threw his cigarette butt on the pavement, watching the glow die slowly.

“Dawn is breaking.”

“Yeah, they should be there soon. Can't feel my feet anymore.” Lucas groaned.

They were waiting for a big shipment and had mobilized everyone to make sure they wouldn't be scammed. Sicheng sent a text to Taeyong, looking sleepily at the warehouses lining on the street, still painted in the light blue colors of the ending night.

Taeyong - _I'm in the warehouse with Taeil. Connection is bad. Reach you when I'm out._

Sicheng put his old flip phone back in his pants pocket and started dancing from one feet to the other, bored to no end.

“Not even a single kid to kick out.” Doyoung whined from the concrete fence he's perched himself on.

“Didn't bring the stereo.” Mark chewed, unapologetic.

“We don't need _Neo got my back,_ they know we are here. The streets are empty.” Jaehyun pointed out, level headed as ever.

They repeated their mantras nonetheless, just to kill the silence and wash away the sleep. Sicheng was lying against one of the wooden wall, eyes half closed when a movement on the corner of the street caught his attention. The Market Place had filled a bit, and soon the usual population was bustling around. The Chinese boy was about to go back to his standing nap, Mark's head warming his thigh from his spot, sitting against the wall and leaning on Sicheng's leg when a scream teared the scene. Sicheng didn't catch up right away in his hazy state. Even Mark only opened his eyes, frozen to his spot. But again, the same cry, louder this time, rose from the crowd and a shiver ran around.

“Did I heard the same as-”

“Yeah...”

Mark jumped on his feet when the mass before them started running in all directions, screams and shouts, but on every mouth the same word repeated like a danger to spread : cops.

Sicheng grabbed Mark by the collar of his shirt and hoisted him behind, running as fast as he could in the same direction as the others, unable to tell where the cops were coming from. Here new people emerging, there a siren, on this corner a car blocking a street.

“Where's Haechan ?” Sicheng screamed above his shoulder to Mark.

“I don't know ! He left to smoke !” came the panicked answer.

“Call him ! Call him now and- Mark ?” Sicheng turned around as a group of people separated him with Mark. He tried to jump to spot the smaller boy but the Market Place had become a real maelstrom of people and soon he had to start running again not to be stepped on and possibly die. Or worse, get caught. A flash of blue surged before his eyes and he dodges in extremis, too fast to witness the unlucky woman behind him that ended up thrown on the ground and cuffed. He kept on calling his friend's name in the mess of the streets, looking for familiar faces, trying to untangle the features he wanted to recognize on stranger's and his actual mates. He didn't cross anyone known, or at least didn't spot anyone.

He ran before an empty cop's car, all doors wide open and sirens still screaming. He hid behind the trunk, sat down and tried to contact Taeyong. If the older boy was still in the warehouse, he was in great danger, and Sicheng couldn't warn him.

“Fuck, Fuck !” is all Sicheng could think of and muster again and again under his breath, hands trembling, heart beating bruises on his ribcage and this nauseous feeling that he couldn't get ride of.

Saying he was shit scared was an understatement. Unable to sort his thoughts out, he got up and started running in the direction of the warehouse's huge sliding door. It probably was the worst idea in the world as he could see policeman barge in about forty meters away and get inside the building, but it was his only way to find Taeyong, and if Taeyong was to be caught, then Sicheng would get caught too.

He pushed the door with as much violence as he could gather and slipped inside, bolting toward the ladder-like stairs that leaded to the first floor. He caught light coming from torch lamps dancing on the walls and understood that the cops would soon get to the first floor as well. He climbed on all fours, hands and feet moving like an animals, deaf to the pain screaming in his limps and the splints getting on his fingers. He was landing on the first floor when a blinding light appeared on his face from the other side :

“HEY YOU ! STOP RUNNING ! STOP RUNNING !”

Sicheng took the ladder again and raced for the second floor, trying to get ride of the white spots that were dancing before his eyes.

“Taeyong !” he screamed, uncaring of who could hear him now that he was spotted.

He just ran as fast as he could, almost flying above the old wooden floor, banging doors and screaming Taeyong's name with the force of desperation.

“TAEYONG !”

“SICHENG ?!”

Sicheng's heart jumped in his chest as he turned in the room from which the noise was coming. Taeyong was overlooking the street from the window, his phone pressed against his ear. The younger threw himself at Taeyong and held him as hard as he could, both their hearts like racing horses against one another.

“What's going on ?” the Chinese boy asked, two hands lifting his bangs to cool his forehead, a gesture of nervousness he tried to conceal.

“A cop's down.” Taeyong explained hysterically as he was still trying to reach someone over the phone. “It's when cops get down on a scene to catch as much as possible. Like a cleaning duty they hold twice a year. Was not expecting that today fuck.”

“But... What do we do, we need to get out of here, and what about the shipment ? Is everyone okay ? Do you think someone got caught ? What do we do if we get- Oh my god Taeyong they're are on the first floor they'll catch us if-”

“Sicheng shut your fucking gums just shut up I'm trying to think.” snarled back, on edge.

Out of cheer frustration, Sicheng pushed a table that landed upside down in a great ruckus. They were both speaking at the same time, unable to calm themselves.

“Ten !” Taeyong finally screamed over the phone. “Where the fuck are you, we need to get out of here !”

Sicheng pressed himself against the older's back to overhear the conversation, silently relieved that Ten was safe.

“Okay, Okay don't move we are getting to you ! You don't move okay, they are on the other side of the building we still have time.” he rambled while taking his things and pushing Sicheng toward the door.

They exited the room after Taeyong hung up and started running toward the exit door opposite to the side the cops were coming from.

“STOP YOU PUNKS !”

Their legs carried them as far as they could, terrified at every corner to run into blue blouses and armed hands. They closed their eyes at every turn, every leap, ever fly of stairs, jumping and stumbling, their breathes running short but always letting escape this same gasp of air that seemed to say “run, run, run.”

And so they ran. Exiting the warehouse was an exhilarating success, and they each pushed a door, running hand in hand and away from the slowing cops. Ten was in sight, jogging toward them, his phone in hand, waving, a smile breaking the tight mask of anxiety.

“Ten !” Taeyong screamed, jumping mid-movement, adrenaline and tension mixing in his body. They were about ten meters away, still in full speed, fairly away from the storm behind, still full of blaring sirens and crying people. A police's car appeared at the intersection Ten was waiting at. All doors opened, they fell on the Thai boy, throwing him down and beating him up with nightsticks for good measure before dragging him in the car. The action didn't take half a minute, the doors slammed closed and with them the bloodied body of their friend.

Sicheng was mortified, frozen to the spot, eyes bulging, mouth open, heart ready to fall out. He wanted to throw up. He felt as if someone had thrown a bucket full of icy water. Taeyong next to him was screaming like a mad man, moving in all direction, only anchored by his fingers still intertwined with Sicheng's. But the younger was still deaf to the world around, his eyes fixed on the exact position Ten had been, his ears ringing.

“TEN !”

The wailing slowly arrived to his brain, and suddenyl the whole situation seem to flash back into Sicheng. He gripped Taeyong's hand pulled him behind. Gotta move on, gotta stay fast :

“We need to find the others hyung !” he panted, his body like an automate, on foot after the other, each step striking the ground like an earthquake and sending lightnings of pain in his legs.

Taeyong followed behind, his running pattern hectic, still trashing around from time to time and screaming, stopping, yanking Sicheng back and screaming some more before Sicheng could drag him again.

They changed path a few time, a police surging before them, or a street clogged by cops beating people up. Sicheng was breathing loudly, stopping Taeyong, the both of them colliding into each others, a tangle of limbs begging to rest and of brains unable to stop. _Keep going hyung, we need to find a way out, find people, gotta get out, get out._ They saw Donghyuck being hauled into a van, Mark screaming somewhere, his voice booming but his body nowhere in sight, probably held tight in the dark. Sicheng recognized Jungwoo's opaque white plastic bag that he carried around with his little spoon, lighter and an old red garrotte. He swallowed his tears and took yet another street.

The sun was up in the sky when they stopped running.


	16. Chapter 16

 

They'd left the Market Place area and had kept running until the city receded in favor of the highway, habitations getting shallower and shallower. Only then did they collapse on the ground, chest rising hardly, mouth dry and eyes tearing. They stayed for a moment in the dust behind a fence bordering the railway, catching their breath and just trying to both find a way out and forget about what had happened. Sicheng was lost in his thoughts, starring at the unending blue sky, the sun rays blocked by a silver of pollution mapping the view in a white fog. Sweat was running down his temples, his forehead, his nape and his back. He felt gross, his shirt wet and caked by dirt.

He wanted to shut his eyes closed and cry, ball himself in a corner and hide from the world, wake up in someone's bed in Jinju and just feel someone else's warmth against his arm, his calf, his back, whatever. He wanted to feel the unmoving heat, the stagnant air of a room crowded with young men, not the cooling breeze of the wind or the hard ground against his back or the feeling of blood pumping in some aching parts of his body. _Don't close your eyes. Don't cry. It's not over. Gotta find a way out._

He stirred difficultly, trying to take his flip phone out of his pocket and turned it on. No signal. He sighed and turned his head toward Taeyong's form. The older boy was lying still, like a sleeper or a dead man, but eyes opened and unwavering, starring at the sky just like Sicheng had before, his mouth closed and his face blank of any emotions. Sicheng couldn't tell if Taeyong was trying to process everything or if he was going to deny the events of the morning.

“Hyung” he murmured, his voice hoarse both of screaming and not talking at all for a while. “Hyung, do you have signals ?”

Taeyong didn't answer, so Sicheng scouted closer, dragging himself next to the smaller boy and nudging his shoulder :

“Taeyong, check your-”

“I'm out of battery.”

The Chinese boy deflated like a balloon. He let his head fall back on the grass and sighed heavily. Taeyong's hands were shaking by his side and soon he would ask for a trip or something to sooth the lack of drugs. Sicheng was scared to feel bad himself, but he didn't want to see it. He didn't want to face anything. He closed his eyes, decided to give up for a minute, just get away from here. _I'm finding another way out_ he thought before falling heavily asleep.

When he woke up, he felt completely disoriented. The sun was high in the sky and his forehead was hurting him as if something was hitting it every now on then with much force every time. That's what you get for staying under the sun for so long, he thought, even if it didn't feel like a long time since he'd closed his eyes. His body was sore all over, both from the run, the anxiety and his nap on the hard ground. The sound of a car passing right next to them threw him back in reality and he jumped at the sudden noise, muscles all tensed and waiting to regain all his souvenirs. The Market place, the cop's down, Ten, Haechan, others probably, then the run.

“There's a phone booth about thirty meters away.”

Sicheng jumped again, the thought of Taeyong next to him rising warm feelings in his heart, relief and gratefulness so overwhelming he wanted to hug the smaller boy until he could crush him. He couldn't imagine being alone in this kind of situation. The red haired boy was turning his back on him, sitting crossed legs, his nice brand clothes all covered in grass and dirt, fingers findling with his shoelaces.

“Hyung” Sicheng said dumbly, moving back to a sitting position as well and looking expectantly at the other.

“there's a phone booth. An emergency one. We can go there and make a call.” he repeated, his voice foreign, defeated.

“I don't think Mark was caught, we can try his phone ?” Sicheng proposed, bending over to catch a glimpse of Taeyong's face.

The older didn't answer, he lifted his head, squinted at the bright sky, his shoulders slumped. Sicheng cleared his throat and moved even closer :

“Maybe... maybe Taeil ? He was with you when you entered the warehouse... ?”

Silence.

“Or Johnny ? Hum... Yu-Yuta ?”

“Let's find a motel.” Taeyong cut, and he got up.

“What.”

“I need to clean up.”

“O...kay.”

They moved over the phone booth nonetheless and opened for the first time of their life a phone number's book. Or maybe Taeyong already had. After all, it had been his idea to check for motel addresses in the phone booth. Sicheng would have never thought of it, but indeed, when people crash in the highway, the first thing they look for after a tow truck is a place to spend the night, and to eat.

They reached the closest town by feet, dragging dust with their tired sneakers, joints burning and calf aching. The motel was slightly crappy with old-fashioned red neon light wanting to give it an 80's vibe but really making the place brothel-ish. They had enough for a single bed room and no extras. They would have to leave the next morning. No breakfast. Sicheng was craving his drinkable yogurt, still too nauseous for a donut but definitely in need of a sugar kick. He took the key and ignored the nasty look he received from the old aunt behind the counter. They locked themselves in the three on three meter room that smelled like wet dog and cold tobacco, not having shared a word since that noon next to the highway.

Taeyong made a bee line for the bed and lied on it, rolling on his side and turning his back on Sicheng. The younger was conflicted, standing like a tall idiot next to the door, looking down on the man he cherished ignoring him completely.

“What are we doing here Taeyong ?” he asked in a whisper.

“We can't all gather back to Jinju.” the answer came, voice steady but void of emotion. “Would bring too much attention.”

Sicheng spent the worst night of his life, sitting on the floor against the frame of the bed, the bed lamp casting its disgusting yellow color on his scrapped knuckles. He wet his face around ten times, trying to erase the memories of Ten's terrified expression, the pain on his face, and the screams all around, the loss, the run. He cleaned the blood that had dried on his face, probably from hit he'd not felt in the middle if the mess but that were throbbing under his skin now that everything was quiet again. There were scratches and cuts all over his arms and the left side of his face. He couldn't recognize himself in the crappy bathroom mirror. Haggard eyes, bleeding lip and bruising cheekbone.

Everytime he came back to his spot, Taeyong was lying on his side and hiding from Sicheng, his frame unmoving but purposefully awake.

“We should go to Jeju.” the younger breathed out so low he thought only he heard it.

The sobs that escaped Taeyong filled the rest of the night, his shoulders trembling in the mattress, his distress unfathomable.

Sicheng closed his eyes until the sun rose. He couldn't believe what had happened today. What happened today ? Nothing.

Nothing happened today.

 

*

 

He'd called his mother after locking Taeyong in the room, asking for a phone to the receptionist who'd granted the office's one with the same mean look on her face. He'd spoken in Chinese right away and didn't manage to disguise how bad he'd felt. He felt so bad. And his mother had cried over the phone, urging him to come back. He needed something to take to ease the pain and the anxiety that was rising. He'd tried to move further from the counter but the phone was attached and his inner terror had picked, skin crawling with a million of walking insects and every warning alarms in his brain going on. Eventually, he'd hung up after vomiting words of non-sense and trying to snap the phone unplugged. The receptionist had screeched and threatened to call the police, but Sicheng was feeling too off to understand. He'd scurried back to his room because at this moment he was ready for a holdup and threaten her as much as he felt threatened, taking all the money and running away with Taeyong to get them both something to sniff.

Once the door clicked close behind him, he ran to the bathroom, jumped in the shower with his clothes on and turned the shower on. He screamed when the water hit his head, the coldness unstandable on his hypersensitive scalp. He crouched under the jet, circling his painful knees and burying his face there, balancing himself and crying big fat tears for some reasons his mind couldn't process. He cried really hard, eyes shut tight and not caring for the world around, the makeup caked around burning his eyes even more. He ended up slouching on the tilled flood, body broken in an uncomfortable position but unable to put himself upright. All his members were stiff, his joints aching like an old machine and always, the insufferable feeling that a colony of ants is marching under his skin.

When some senses came back to him, he wanted to throw up and his calf itched him as if a million mosquitoes had bitten him there. When he looked up, he realized Taeyong was crouched before the toilet bowl, hurling noisily, his dry bony hands clutching the seat so hard his fingers were as white as the cheap plastic.

They were supposed to leave the room around 10am but were still barricaded in the cramped place at noon, blinds half shut and wriggling on each side of the bed, smoking cigarette after cigarette and shredding to ruin every sticky notes of the block note they'd found on one of the nightstands.

When the door opened and the tenant barged in, Sicheng felt ready to jump to her throat with a knife. _Get the money. Buy something. You need something for Taeyong and you. Provide for him. Need a fix for the next two hours. Get two hours to find something else. Reach a scene a_ _nd_ _buy some more. Reach a scene. People like you._

“-I'm calling the police ! Get the hell out of my establishment !”

Taeyong hoisted him off of the bed and dragged him by the collar of his still slightly damp shirt, colliding with the old woman and running haphazardly in the hallway, looking for a way out with their wonky brains, the walls weirdly dancing around them and every noise amplified. They arrived in the street just in time for Taeyong to spectacularly throw up in the gutter just before the old fishing car of a man :

“Sicheng-ah ?”

Sicheng raised his head, mouth hanging open and eyes twitching, trying to remember the identity of the middle aged man.

“Your mother called me, she was panicked, asked me to pick you up. You okay son ?”

“I'm okay” Taeyong blurted, but the man was evidently not talking to him.

“He's with you ?” the guy asked getting out of his van, expression horrified.

Sicheng held Taeyong from behind, bent above him and securing him as he was retching difficulty, his stomach under Sicheng's hands rolling and contracting. Sicheng looked the man in the eyes, trying to make his vision focus on something and nodded shallowly.

He had no memories of what happened after that whatsoever. He must have passed out because when he came back to his senses, he was in a van, his head smashed against the vibrating window, scenery passing by at full speed. But he couldn't make anything out, the night was falling again and he fell right back into unconsciousness, just feeling Taeyong's thigh from the tip of his fingers next to him before closing his eyes again.

Eyes closed, everything pitched black. The roaring of the car, the bumps of the uneven road, the flash of a streetlight burning his lids, then pitch black again and the noise disappears.

Sicheng opened his eyes a few times during the day and the night he spent in the van. Taeyong had fallen against his flank over the ride, but none had exchanged a word as they could only stay awake for a few seconds before being dragged back.

Finally, around six am, Sicheng clearly opened his eyes, tiredness drained out of his body so he changed position. He untangled his limbs as slowly as he could as every inch hurt terribly, both from sleeping in such a poor position for hours on end and from missing a fix. His fingers were dancing on his thigh, his eyes trying to figure where he was exactly without moving too much not to raise the driver's attention. He was still in the van, still next to Taeyong, and the buildings had like collapsed on the ground, living room for grass everywhere, bushes every now and then and behind, the high threes of a near-by forest. Sicheng's cardiac rhythm increased as he wondered where he would find a scene in the middle of the countryside.

“Woke up son ?” the man said, eying in the rear-view mirror.

His fingers stopped moving and he looked defiantly at the reflection of the man, lips tightly shut and sneaking an arm around Taeyong's back to keep him close. The older was dead asleep, head heavy against his shoulder and not making a sound, his makeup a mess and his hair more brownish that red in the nascent day.

The man ended up turning the radio on to kill the silence and it greatly bothered the Chinese boy. By seven am, the van followed a road circling around the coast, and the man took a phone call.

“Yeah I have him. No he's back to sleep I think. He's not alone though, do you want for me to bring the other too or should I call the police ? Ah ? Okay… yeah of course. No I understand, the other doesn't seem… clear… yeah okay… Yeah I call you back when everything is settled.”

A shiver ran through Sicheng's spine and he gripped Taeyong's back harder. The older stirred but Sicheng had discretely put his hand on his mouth. He would not let the man take Taeyong away. He would not let the man report him to the police. Taeyong's big eyes were looking up at him, his makeup a mess, dark bags adorning his pretty ravaged face.

The sun rose and hit Sicheng's head like the sniperlight of a gun, cutting his face in half right before his eyes. This new light before his vision just strengthened the decision to leave the car the moment the guy would pull the brake. They would not look back, just keep Taeyong's hand in his and run on the opposite direction. _Run, Run, Run_.

He kept his eyes closed for the remaining of the ride, not moving an inch, even if his arm was starting to die on his side by the lack of blood, or that the switchblade on his back-pocket was painfully pressing on his chair as he was putting all of his weigh on it. He shut his eyes, almost frowning, his fingers clenching on the door's handle every time the van was slowing down to take a turn, thinking the end road was there just for the engine to roar some more and take a new speed. He was so tensed, feeling Taeyong's muscles bent against his, as anxious as he was, that he didn't realized immediately that the car was stopping for good. He opened his eyes wide when the man killed the engine and pressed the handle, unlocking the door but unable to open it as he was taking the sight before him.

Like in a dream, the sun was slowly rising above the ocean, the sky still a soft purple and the salted air hitting his face even behind the closed door. There was his mother's house, with it's traditional look, the dooryard sprawling before the old veranda. The place was a still darkened due to its exposition against the rising sun, but he could not have mistaken the woman standing next to it. Even in the shadow of the endless sky behind her, with her hair swept by the early wind. She moved toward them and Sicheng forgot to open the door. He forgot to leave, to take Taeyong's hand in his and run away. He felt the weigh of the older pressing against him as they both looked at the peaceful view before them. It was like a sepia dream. The buildings were gone, the violent sun, the street lights, the signboards in the illuminated night had vanished too. No more honking and screams or AC's buzzing. This morning when they opened their eyes they felt like life in this place had never started. Somewhere from inside the house, a radio was playing, and the quiet tune was carried through an open window by the breeze.

_I close my eyes, only for a moment and the moment's gone._

_All my dreams pass before my eyes, a curiosity,_

_dust in the wind._

The picture carved itself in Sicheng's eyes. He never forgot this sight.


	17. Chapter 17

****Taeyong was infinitely sad. He spent the first days starring out the window, or lying in bed curling on himself to forget the pain of withdrawal. Sicheng was with him the three days they spent locked in the friend's room, sweating and crying and vomiting from time to time as the poison in their bodies seeped out by every pore of their skin. The agony was violent but didn't last. After three days Sicheng wandered out and drank more water than he ever had in his entire life. He came back to give a few bottles to Taeyong who stanched his thirst. They didn't say a word since then. It's like Taeyong had gone mute, his stare vacant and his shoulders defeated, sitting in the rocking chair by the veranda and looking out the window as if buildings would rise out of the angry sea. Maybe he was missing Jinju, and feeling as out of place as Sicheng had felt when he'd arrived there.

Sicheng's mother lived by Seongsan Eup in the southern side of the island, just before the cost in a fairly secluded traditional like village, far from the seaside resort. It was very calm, the noise only coming from the wind in the trees and the waves roaring or quietly purring. It was a lot of things, but nothing like what the older had known. _Have you ever been by the sea ? Do you know what a forest looks like ? Have you ever walked barefoot on real grass ?_ Never never never. Sicheng never asked and Taeyong never answered. Communication was becoming an issue they didn't want to work on.

“Your friend isn't really talkative...” His mother said one morning that she was making coffee.

She never stopped looking at him with this worried look. It was like a constant on her face, as evident as her nose or her eyes or her hair. She was worried when she looked at him, when he opened his mouth and when he didn't, when he showed up and when he didn't. She'd been so scared, when the man had managed to get them to exit the car, both boys holding onto each other's with terrified eyes, scared like preys and defiant like wounded predators. They were both, becoming more of the former and less of the later.

Sicheng heard her cry a lot when they endured withdrawal. He could remember seeing her face above his, a washcloth on his forehead, cool hands on his burning calf, but maybe it was just in his head. He didn't know what was real nowadays. Sometimes when he woke up he was expecting to see the old concrete ceiling of Jinju or feel someone's eat against his thigh or the smell of someone smoking. The air was always pure here. Salty, making their skin stick, but pure.

“It takes time to get better.” the man had said when Sicheng was helping unload the van with groceries.

“He will be fine here.” his mother had added.

Every time the adults wanted for him to stay with them and bring Taeyong. He never did. He always came back to the friend's room that ricked despair and stagnant air. Sadness is not a place, yet every time he opened the door and heard it close behind he felt as if the feeling was nestling in his heart. Taeyong was immensely more sad very day. His form almost fading away as he seemed to take root on the bed, in the middle of the covers, his face empty, longing making like a collard around his neck.

Sicheng, weirdly enough, was very quick to take back his former life. Maybe because he knew this place, or because he was finally with his mother, and spoke Chinese to her as much as before. The man who'd picked them up was selling the seafood she found while diving, she provided to him, and lived here from time to time as they were great friends. He delivered everything to Seoul markets, which explained how he'd found them so quickly.

“When you hung up so suddenly I understood something was wrong” She murmured while knitting a net and checking her diving material. “I thought it was your phone, so I called back. The lady told me you were making a ruckus in her motel and that she would call the police. I begged her not to and asked for the address. Then I called this uncle.”

She could tell this story over and over, and Sicheng kind of knew that it was her way of venting out, of expressing what she'd felt. Maybe living it over and over helped her get ride of the demons this phone call had casted.

“What where you doing in a motel Sicheng...” She would murmur with her forehead creasing and her eyes closing.

“I was lost. Seoul is so big… I just lost my way.” he answered back, not looking at her, picking at the skins around his nails.

No more bleeding fingers, no more dirt under his breaking nails. The bag under his eyes were fading and the bruises on his face healing. Appetite was coming back and soon he wouldn't see the shadow of his ribs. He refused to go to the doctor as he feared a full check-up, and Taeyong simply refused to get on the scale the morning they'd arrived as Sicheng's mother was finding him very petite for his age. Going to the doctor would just trigger another violent panic attack from Taeyong and Sicheng was just trying to reach him back.

“I'm going grocery shopping hyung. Do you want to come ?”

Taeyong didn't move from the chair he was sitting on, looking at the sea, his phone turning over and over in his skinny dry hands.

“Did you charge your phone ?”

_Yes._

“Did someone call ?”

_No._

Sicheng left for the store without further hopes, dragging his feet on the streets and trying to avoid the small talk the man was engaging. He just followed, thinking about Taeyong and mourning in his heart. The older was like the sun Sicheng would hung in the sky, and he would annihilate the moon if it's what the other wanted, just to have him shine endlessly. Taeyong was a ray of sunshine, brilliant mischievous smile and electric hair colors, glowing skin and vibrant makeup. Nowadays he was like shaded sunflower, his hand low and hiding under the covers. But he was all his now, and he would build him back.

He wandered in the aisles until the man was done with the list, looking at the different brands of food and picking a homemade dough kit that he dumped in the cart without a word. When they arrived on the counter, Sicheng eyed the cigarette packs aligned behind the cashier and nudged the man's wrist.

“Could you buy me something ?” he asked, clearing his throat clumsily.

The man's eyebrows shot up as it was the first time Sicheng was actually talking to him and smiled brightly, probably proud in some ways Sicheng couldn't fathom.

“Of course son. Go get it now and I'll treat you.”

Sicheng pointed one of the packs with his finger and looked at the older with an unreadable expression.

“Could you buy me cigarettes ?”

The cashier was sitting uncomfortably on his seat, looking the exchange with anxious but avid eyes as the man's face dropped slightly. He regained composure as quickly as he could and waved his hand toward the cashier to get the pack Sicheng had pointed out.

“Don't tell your mom” he winked at Sicheng before giving him the pack.

Sicheng bowed his head then took a bag and proceeded to live the store, the man hurrying behind him with the rest of the groceries.

 

“Taeyong-hyung.” Sicheng called, not exactly a question, dropping his bag in the kitchen and leaving the common area for the rooms before the man could enter behind him.

His mom was out diving and probably had asked for the man to keep an eye on them, but Sicheng couldn't bear the constant observation and the kind fatherly words the man had for them. Taeyong was making him feel uneasy and Sicheng would side his hyung a hundred time out of hundred, so he couldn't sit well with the older man.

“I bought cigarettes. Want to have a smoke ?” he said entering the room, tidying the covers a bit and only half surprised when Taeyong turned his divine face toward him.

Bags under his eyes and hollowed cheeks, but no more scraps. He just needed to be filled. With food, affection, whatever Sicheng could give. Cigarettes. Taeyong's hand appeared from under the covers and he reached for the pack in Sicheng's hand but the younger turned on his heels :

“Not inside.”

It was almost a week and for the first time they seemed to both take a step toward getting better for real. They sat on the rocking chairs Sicheng had dragged from the veranda to the little yard between the house and the coast and they smoked there, watching the sea crash against the rocks underneath. They didn't speak but at least they were both _alive_ and aware of the other. He longed to touch Taeyong, brush his arm, touch his ankle around which a bracelet was still shining.

“Did you smoke ?” His mother asked when she came home that evening and found the two boys sitting on the kitchen table and smelling tobacco on their clothes.

“No, it was this uncle.” Sicheng waved, focusing back on peeling the carrots.

Taeyong was of no use and just passed a potato from time to time, his peeler next to him on the table where it'd stayed untouched.

The next day they went out to smoke again. The day after, Sicheng finally coaxed Taeyong into changing clothes and wear Sicheng's.

“I'm not wearing that.”

“It's just the two of us hyung. No one will see you in sweatpants.”

Taeyong had shrugged and refused to wear the sweats so Sicheng had digged in his closets to find a jean that would fit the bony frame.

“What are you looking at ?” Taeyong asked finally as he was trying to style his hair in the bathroom's mirror, Sicheng sitting against the circular empty bathtub.

“You're wearing my clothes.” he answered simply.

“Do you like what you see ?”

Sicheng didn't replied back because even if the older had said that with an unwavering voice and blank face, it was the first time he was making such comments. The sun was not gone. It was just hiding behind heavy clouds, and Sicheng simply had to blow them away.

The next day, Taeyong got up and joined Sicheng in the kitchen when his mother and the man left for the market, finally trusting them to stay for a few hours unsupervised. Sicheng was a bit stressed by it. Being in their presence all the time was unnerving but the call for a fix was still somewhere on the back of his head and he was scared it would grow. He could hear it at night, when nothing was loud enough to cover it but the sound of the waves by the open windows.

He chose this morning to try the homemade kit he'd bought. It was still in the cupboard where his mother had put it, frowning at the box but just shrugging away after making sure it really was floor inside and not some kind of drugs.

“Sit there” Sicheng said, moving a chair around for Taeyong to sit on it.

He took some measuring cups, emptied the carton box kit and lied flat the different plastic bags.

“Is it... ?” Taeyong asked, lifting himself on his outstretched arms and glancing at the powdery products.

“It's flour, baking soda and sugar.” Sicheng hummed, ripping on of the pack open.

“What for ?”

“To feel like home.”

Taeyong stayed silent, looking diligently at the younger's hand and arms muscles as he tried to follow the instructions on the note in Korean. Sicheng liked to have the older's eyes on him, to have his attention. It was a warmer feeling than the sun hitting his back and frying him in his black farming t-shirt. Sicheng beamed within.

They were not expecting for the dough to have to rise in a warm and humid place.

“I thought we would eat right away.” Sicheng huffed, holding the bowl of knitted dough in his big hands, watching it disappointed.

He really wanted to make donuts like the ones they ate in the streets in between transactions. Taeyong, him, kept on putting his fingers in the dough, watching as it takes its form back.

“Stop touching it hyung you'll put air in the dough.”

“I don't think the dough cares.”

“It won't rise like it should. And it's gross.”

Of course, Sicheng spent most of his morning trying to catch Taeyong's fingers. At some point, Sicheng caught the other's hand and they froze. They had done that for a while, but this time Taeyong didn't wriggle out of his grip. He moved his fingers in such way their fingers aligned and looked intently at the younger's hands, his doe eyes bare and soft.

The sun was reaching for him back, still a bit far but in sight and on his way to blind him. Sicheng felt warm all over, and something in his body started throbbing. Desire was different in his new state. It was not the addiction-induced desire, where your want is coming from a placebo, a drug pumping your libido but the crash down preventing you from actually committing. There he felt like a newborn, feeling Taeyong's hand in his without alcohol or drug in any of their metabolism. They were touching of their own will, and Sicheng felt an impulse to have more. He looked at the other's face, his skin still livid from too much time spent under the moon or hiding inside. But he was still beautiful, even with no makeup on, even with his scared eyebrow, even with his hair turning a dark brown. Other people would have seen blandness. Sicheng knew better.

They drew closer, mouth hovering over each other's, eyes locked and their breathe catching on the other's lips. Sicheng wanted more than he ever had. For Taeyong, his body, all of him until the older would not leave his side and cling on him as much as Sicheng wanted to keep him close. Their lips brushed, Taeyong closed his eyes and the front door opened, breaking the spell. They moved apart, their heart racing, and Sicheng shut his eyes, frowning, looking aside while taking a sharp intake of breath. The throb was still there, even after Taeyong left the table to hide in the room, even when his mom and the man flooded the kitchen smelling like seaweeds and fresh fish. Eventually it faded with a cigarette before the ocean, hiding against a tree and breathing deeply into the wild. The radio Taeyong had snatched from the veranda was playing in the friend's room the same old tune of _Dust_ _in_ _the_ _Wind._

The next day they decided to finish baking. It was one of the hardest thing to fall back into in the house : having a schedule in their eating. They were used to going to the kitchen, taking a snack and eating half of it before leaving it or throwing it up. Here, everytime he opened the fridge to help himself, his mother surged from nowhere and closed the door, looking at him with a sharp look.

“We eat in half an hour Sicheng. Do not snack now.”

The thing is, their snacks where their meals, and he was not ready to eat full course meals anymore, let alone Taeyong. But waking up in the morning and eating breakfast was a domestic action he liked to mime. It felt like being back to normal. One morning he even woke up earlier, made coffee, prepared as much as he could with what was left on the counter and brought it back to the friends room. After what had happened on the kitchen table the other day, he was more thrilled at the idea of opening the door. Taeyong and him didn't room together, not to raise any interrogation within the others. In the real world boys don't room together, they don't pill themselves in one bed and don't sleep on each others limbs, breathing in synch and feeling comfortable. Every night though Sicheng would stare at the door of his room, hoping to see it crack open or hear a soft knock against the wood. But it was not Jinju, and they were not excitedly high. They didn't want to jump on everything that moves. Sicheng just wanted to put his hands all over the older, cradle him, they throw him on his bed and rock against him.

He opened the door with his elbow, trying not to spill anything, and squinted in the darkened room. Taeyong was sound asleep, another thing with their new clean life. They slept a lot longer and a lot easier, or not at all. They were tired a lot, and feeling very down from time to time, but it was all because of the lack of drug. They were missing the glow it was putting on everything and the mood-lifter effect it had. But Sicheng was determined to go on, because he still had a glow in his life. Taeyong's sleeping form was tantalizing. He was perfectly unmoving, his chest barely rising, and Sicheng hoped for the other to open his eyes because like this he looked cold and dead. Like a marble statue, perfect in his shape but empty of life. And Taeyong was a burning sun. Sicheng looked over his shoulder, checked that his mother was not up yet, and that the man was not pulling his van in the courtyard, then he pushed the door closed with his feet and put the plates on his desk. He locked the door for good measure and when he turned back toward Taeyong his heart stopped. The older had not moved an inch, but his eyes were open and looking back at him. It was weird how just seeing the shiny orbs of his eyes could change all of Taeyong's body language, like he'd warmed in an instant and was no longer a lustfully innocent sculpture but a living man who's breathing pattern could carry promises. Sicheng walked toward the bed on stiff legs, hands shaking like a kids. He'd been on Taeyong's bed more times than he could remember, and yet it felt like a first time all over again. Brown hair Taeyong was not foolish pink haired Taeyong and he was not freewheel red haired Taeyong. Red had suited him at that time, like the blood that kept trickling on his temples. Brown haired Taeyong was only his to see. He was only his to touch. He was only _his_.

Taeyong didn't move, he just followed Sicheng with his dark eyes until the younger was sitting on the bed, then lying next to him.

“What did you come for ?” Taeyong murmured slowly, his breathe ghosting over Sicheng's face.

“I made breakfast.”

“I don't eat breakfast.”

“I know.”

Then maybe he didn't come for that. Sicheng drew a bit closer, still looking Taeyong in the eyes, pretending to change position. He could feel the warmth of the other's body against his even though they weren't touching yet. Sicheng raised his hand between their face for Taeyong to see, then put it on the older's shoulder, just brushing at first, scared to see his hyung close himself back. He didn't. Sicheng put the flat of his hand on it, caressed the clothed limb until he arrived at the end of the short sleeve. He'd stopped looking at Taeyong's eyes to follow the path of his hand on the other's side, curious and thriving at the feeling. Taeyong's eyes fluttered close when the younger's fingers brushed his waist. Sicheng froze in his circular movement of the thumb when Taeyong rolled on his back, a puff of air leaving his parted lips and scouting closer to Sicheng.

He'd never touched Taeyong's stomach, nor his bare skin other than his arms and his neck, and here the older was taking his hand and putting it under his shirt, eyes locked as if he was unsure himself of what he was doing. Sicheng opened his hands, almost trying to reach both sides of the older's waist with his long fingers. The skin under his digits was smooth except for a little scar under his belly button. There the bump of a bone, there the trembling built of Taeyong's uneven breathing.

Sicheng was on his side, pressed so hard against Taeyong that soon he would roll on the other's body. He ached to be as close as possible. To feel the warmth, to feel the skin, to feel the muscles under it, and the bones he knew were there poking. Taeyong's hand fisted itself on Sicheng's shirt before moving under and gripping his hip to anchor him against his side. He hid his face against Sicheng's shoulder, breathing heavily and trying not to squirm as the younger's hand mapped the expanse of his stomach with reverence.

Sicheng could have died right then and there, not even bothered that they were so silent, both wanting to bath in the discovery but also very aware of the other people that could live in this house with them. Finally he had Taeyong under him, their mind and their want for each other equally clear. Sicheng could feel the older's desire and he beamed on it. It's like an instinct within him was awakening – more than a desire – the need to protect, to provide, to claim Taeyong as his. It was something brutal and primal that was pumping in his veins and making his hand bolder and his eyes darker. Taeyong was baring himself for him, giving little pieces after little pieces, and Sicheng would collect everything until all Taeyong was was a body in his arms. Maybe it was childish desire to own, or the foolish feeling of first love. Any way, this morning, Taeyong didn't shy away when Sicheng moved closer to him, their lips so close. He put his hand on the younger's cheek and let it slide to his chest :

“I won't belong to you” He murmured slowly, eyes closing as their lips connected finally.

Sicheng didn't care. He breathed in Taeyong's mouth, hungry for the other, hungry for what seemed to be rightfully his, hungry for more, more, more.

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter might be a bit short, but i've found myself struggling to write and even though everything is planned already, i'm a bit at loss with what i'm doing. school ended wednesday and thus I can't write in class anymore (i never exactly wrote at home, only during class time and that's why the chapters were out every two to three days as I would write seven to eight hours a day.). So yeah, I'm trying to hold on. Please leave a word, the silence is scary. Love, Pony.

“Why does he wear a hoodie by this heat ?” Sicheng's mom asked one afternoon that she was coming back from diving.

The wind had started blowing this morning, the best kind to have nice waves and dive, so she'd left earlier with the other women diver. When she'd come back home, Taeyong had stood in the kitchen, hand on the door of the fridge and considering the bottle of milk.

“I don't know” Sicheng had eluded, trying to pass by her but she'd had none of it.

“I've been very concilient Sicheng. I haven't asked many questions. And I should. God knows I should. So now you'll answer me because if this boy is bringing bad habits in this house I'll have no regrets throwing him out.”

Sicheng pointedly looked at the wall, feeling uneasy because he could _sense_ Taeyong's eyes on him from the crack of the friend's room, as if waiting for him to vomit a lie bigger than him. To conceal the shame. The two boys had left in the late morning to bury their phones somewhere in the expense of land behind the house. Sicheng could see how Taeyong always made the device turn in his fingers, never turning it on but anxiously clinging on it. Like an _addict_.

“let's bury them. The phones.”

Taeyong had ignored him, washing his hair in the basin in the yard.

“You said you wanted to get better. To move on. Now is the time to prove it.

The other had dried his hair as best he could with a towel, his still wet curls falling beautifully on his face.

“I become so weak when we do that...” he sighed, looking at the horizon where the sea and the sky meet certainly, blurred but inevitable.

“When we do what ?” Sicheng had asked half because he was annoyed and half because he wanted to hear it.

_What is it that we have. Say it._

But they didn't really _do_ anything. They touched, they finally kissed, and they looked into each other's eyes with longing on both sides. Sicheng wanted more, always. He wanted to touch more of Taeyong, and he wanted to have sex. He wanted to do it with Taeyong more than anything, and it was the kind of thought that started to cloud his judgment every time he was doing something with the older boy.

Taeyong didn't answer. He looked down at his phone on his lap as he'd sat down on the wooden path bordering the house. Sicheng moved slowly toward the older and when he stopped before him he held his hand toward the device, so addictive yet stubbornly silent.

“They won't call back. You know it.”

“They might call for us.”

“Will you come back then ?”

Taeyong probably wasn't as sad as he'd been when he'd arrived, but the melancholy in his eyes was indelible. Like the worry on Sicheng's mother's face, it was a dirty downing line that no one could get ride of. But Sicheng was sure they could grow happy here. He was partly frightened at how easily he was letting Jinju go, but somehow he'd always been there because Taeyong was. And now that Ten was locked up he had no valid reasons to come back. And letting the older turn this phone over and over in his dry hands, sitting dejectedly on the front porch and looking at the sea waiting for a salvation that will never come was like witnessing Taeyong's happiness being dragged out of the womb, dead unborn.

There was also this sickening feeling the younger could feel creeping deeper and deeper within, that he wanted to be all that Taeyong had in mind. It was not right, but neither had been their behavior back in Jinju.

“It was wrong. We were wrong. Back then.” he spoke again, crouching before Taeyong, his pretty face bare and his big eyes looking childish without smoky makeup.

“Is that what you think.”

“You see it now. That's why you are sad.”

Taeyong looked on the side, pensive, so good at pretending he'd never thought about it.

“It was so nice.” he sighed lowly. “I miss everyone. I miss how easy it was. I miss my wardrobe. Can they make it out without us ?”

“You said it yourself” Sicheng exhaled while getting up and extending his hand again, this time Taeyong taking it and getting up too. “We need to stay away for a while or we would put them in danger. And it's not like they are in troubles either. Jinju is safe, they still have the stash as Johnny, Mark and Lucas know of its location, and the deal with the Chinese is still up. They don't need us.”

Sicheng really didn't want to go back. But Taeyong was more uncertain. He seemed reassured enough after what Sicheng told him and they escaped the house just to borrow two shovels and run toward the next field with their phones heavy in their pockets. They'd never known what they were doing, one more dubious step wouldn't phase Taeyong. And the Chinese boy hoped it was his way of showing he wanted to go along Sicheng's way.

“I don't want to be like this anymore. I don't want to roam the streets and work with people who hold guns like you would hold hands. I will never be like this because it was never meant to be me. It's still not me, and I… It was tiring. And sometimes I'm ashamed of what I did.”

Taeyong looked at him, supporting himself on the shovel he'd planted in the ground, two hands under his chin.

“I've always been ashamed of who I was.”

That's it. It was these brief moments, but coming more easily nowadays, where Taeyong seemed more sober than he'd ever been, even before taking drugs. Moment where Sicheng was relieved to see his defeated shoulders because it was bringing realization with them, moments where Taeyong was showing his neck for the world to cut, apologetic and anxious and sad but so ready to get better, so envious of everyone else's life. It was in these moments that he was back to being a 22 year old with a burden in place of a heart, and he wanted to drop it to the ground.

Taeyong started shoveling with his skinny limbs, his lithe arms going out of Sicheng's unbranded t-shirts, slowly getting some colors from the sun. he made a little hole between the wildflowers and threw his flip phone inside, then he left. Sicheng threw his own as well after turning it off, then crouched to fill the hole back.

After thoughts, he should have seen it coming. How Taeyong was silent, how he'd gripped the shovel hard in his hand, how he'd diligently stepped away. Still, the violent shadow before Sicheng hurt more than the shovel swing he ducked out of nowhere. He threw himself on the ground above the messed earth and turned around to face Taeyong. The boy was standing before him against the sun, breathing hard, his eyes bulging with guilt and his hands trembling around the shovel's shaft. He gulped and Sicheng didn't wait for the other to move, he rose from the ground and rammed into Taeyong. The drugs he thought again and again, just not to blame Taeyong, the drugs, they never leave you. They are silent inside you but they make you move, like a poison that stayed for so long it's not a poison anymore. It's you.

Sicheng snatched the weapon out of Taeyong's hands and threw it away, pushing the older back on the ground before he could get up, hovering over him and blocking his legs with his own :

“That's why we can't go back !” Sicheng screamed, the shout leaving his lips without him thinking about it.

He'd been so calm and so resigned a moment before, he didn't know where this violence was coming from.

“Do you see what it makes us do ! This is not us !” he barked again, eyes shut tight and arms shaking Taeyong's frame all over the place.

The emptiness of the fields reverberated his loud voice and the birds flew from every nearby trees, frightened and quick to disappear with anxious cries. But Sicheng couldn't hear them. It's as if all hiw own anxiety was finally showing out. He'd been inconsciously waiting for Taeyong to fight back, to try to run away or to start a fight within his own house, anything to sabotage himself and make Sicheng's mom cast him out. Sicheng had woken up every morning and went to be every night with a knot on his stomach, expecting a purposeful misstep to throw them on the street again. And it had never come, and the anguish withing the younger had just built up.

“Why are you like this ?! Why are you always like this ?! We have a chance to make it out so why the fuck are you like this !”

But no answer came. Just some strangled gurgles and slaps on his faces, nails scratching at his cheeks and pulling strands of his hair. His eyes were open now but he couldn't see, he just needed for Taeyong to stop moving all together, because it's only when he was silent and unmoving that Sicheng felt better.

“Why do you make me feel so bad every time you are awake ?! You can't be trusted Taeyong ! Why can't you just lay down and stop making me feel so bad ?!”

Sicheng let out a long howling, tears gathering around his eyes and blurring his vision, but the desperate fingers that circled his wrist just snapped him back to life. _His eyes were open but he couldn't see until now_. His hands were around Taeyong's throat and squeezing so painfully the older's face was a scary purple color and his eyes were locked in Sicheng's, wide and glazed and oh so terrified. His mouth was gaping open, voiceless and useless. It took some time for Sicheng's fingers to untighten, his knuckles cracking as if he'd turned to stone, his joints white and is muscles sore.

“Taeyong ?” he murmured incredulous, his voice hoarse from his outburst. “Taeyong are you alright ?”

Taeyong took a huge gulp of air and started coughing, but he aborted his movement and stayed unmoving under Sicheng's stare, taking quick little breathes like a frightened pray, heart punching on his ribs like a mad drum. The younger first moved back, sitting on Taeyong's legs and scared to go any closer, but quickly he bent forward and eyed the older warily. He was still unmoving, just following him with his eyes, and when Sicheng took Taeyong's head in his hands to cradle him he felt the dampness of his fingers where the other had cried.

“I'm sorry hyung… I'm so sorry… please forgive me...” he panted between two sobs, rocking Taeyong's limp upper body and letting his own tears flow.

The bruises bloomed on the older's neck like purple lilas and yellow sunflowers and blue cornflowers. The finger shape of if made a vicious collar dragging Taeyong down. He stayed voiceless for the remaining of the day, long after Sicheng carried him to the house, sitting him on the veranda's lounger. He sat there looking at the sea and didn't piped up when Sicheng came back with a scarf or when he pushed the lounger to rock Taeyong a bit.

And so here he was, standing in the kitchen with a load of groceries in his hands and just checking that the man was not coming around to scout closer to his mom. She was holding herself straighter on a chair's backrest and was looking at him with these creases on her forehead :

“Will you always love me mom ?' he asked softly, not daring looking at her.

She looked at him for a moment, barely opened her mouth before closing it again, then looked toward the friend room's door that shut quietly like an oyster's shell.

“Are you...”

“Don't talk about it around please...”

Her mouth made a thin line, and she nodded slowly, her head hanging low as she turned her back on him, unloading another back and busying herself just not to have to face him. She would understand eventually, and Sicheng didn't feel as bad as he would have. It was bad, so bad to be who he wanted to be with Taeyong, but leaving hickey's on a man's neck was way easier to admit than just showing the violence he could hold between his hands.

That night, when Sicheng lied in bed, knotting his hands in the sheets like soft handcuffs, the door cracked softly. It was late, the moon was high from where it was visible in the inked sky, and Taeyong's hollow figure stepped out of the darkness, bright white light making his face look wanner than it was. He walked toward the bed on wobbly legs, hands twisting, and he crawled on the covers against Sicheng.

“I'm sorry” he said, his voice down and shaking, but his eyes dry “I'm so sorry… I don't know why I'm being like this… I will not be like this anymore… I'm sorry Sicheng….”

And Sicheng might have felt bad because it was his apology to make, but he just hugged Taeyong's little frame against his chest, tangling their legs and breathing against his hair, rocking him like a child and patting his head. It was his fault, but maybe he'd managed to completely break Taeyong, and maybe they would move on after that. So he just held him tight and the older held just as much, and they didn't cry but they pressed against each other as hard as they could, until they could barely gulp on air, and maybe making choking the other to death was a bit like hugging desperately that way.

Closer than ever and slowly unable to breathe.

 

When Sicheng woke up the next morning, still raveled in Taeyong's body, he inspired deeply and looked through the window. The sun was rising again, even after yesterday, even after every other yesterday that they'd had, and would keep on doing so. So when he looked at this boy he had in his arms, dark circles on his glowing skin, but clean and alive he realized that Taeyong had never been more wrong ; he'd always belonged here.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, please don't forget we work hard to write. Come and say hi, it will make me feel better.  
> Love, Pony.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbetaed because it's 1AM again. I'll clean it all in the morning.  
> Read well. It's difficult but I will finish this story.  
> Love, Pony.

After that, Taeyong stuck up with Sicheng. He almost seemed tamed, and living in a functional home created a domesticity that brought Taeyong's inner self to shine. Sometimes, Sicheng would look at the older cleaning the dishes and rearranging the food in a plate and think that if Jinju had been nothing but a dream, or a dark place in a different parallel universe, that's the kind of boy Taeyong would have grown up to be. He was strangely shy with other people, far from the incredibly attractive charisma he had in the Market place.

More than two weeks and he wasn't that rebutted by the perspective of wearing sweatpants and old t-shirts. His hair was a dark brown, his skin had gladly drunk the sun and he was a pleasant golden color. This Taeyong, the normal Taeyong, the one who _should_ have been, was attention-phobic and a bit of a clean freak.

“I like cleaning stuffs. I never knew I would.”

“Isn't it why you were there leader back then ?” Sicheng asked, lying on the couch, head upside down and not keen on giving a hand since the older was absent-mindedly doing all the work.

“Was I ?” he hummed while drying a plate.

Sicheng didn't answer because he didn't know if Taeyong's mind was protecting him by quickly throwing him in denial mode or if he was consciously showing Sicheng he was done with this life. Anyway, Sicheng was finally happy with what they had. The bruises had faded, last remnant of a life taking an ugly turn. They'd pulled the brake soon enough.

“One day we will come see Ten.” Taeyong had said one night that they were lying together in Sicheng's bedroom.

It was the only allusions they made of their Seoul life, and everytime Sicheng's mom tried to bring the conversation around this corner, they would just elude it. She never got any answers, never any clue, nor any confirmations. She thought about it a lot, she probably knew some things, considering the state they'd arrived in, but she was only brushing the top of the iceberg and it was fine like that. Sicheng just wanted for everything about this to disappear, and the less they were to know about it and the better it would be. He worked hard to please his mom and be kind and help her.

“You should have started being helpful about ten years sooner.” she'd laughed.

But ten years ago he'd had nothing to amend himself for. He'd had nothing to erase and no guilt to carry on his shoulders. Taeyong was always silent during these moments, barely ever talking to his mother, and never to the man. Even Sicheng didn't like talking to him. He was happy that his mom had found someone, but he had nothing to do with the guy. The man would buy him cigarettes in secret, probably trying to bond with the two boys, but Taeyong was as comfortable with him as a cat around water, and Sicheng was just doing the bare minimum to get his free packet. A bunch of ungrateful cats they were.

They were ungrateful and sometimes would bite the scrap the hand coming near, but they were unable to fully work by themselves. They wouldn't get a flat for the two of them, not even move to the vacant room in the farm complex just next to Sicheng's mom's house. When it was just the two of them – which was slowly starting to happen during daytime as the adults were less scared to let them on their own and come back to an empty house – they would just bump into each others, scared to stay apart but unable to look into each others eyes. There was a guilt even in Taeyong's eyes, a strange kind of light that had nothing to do with the contentment they were edging toward. It was the ugly collar that they still needed to break, that was so ready to break.

One time they piled at the back of Hwaseung's fishing van with Sicheng's mother and Taeyong for the next town. His mother was supposed to help sell what she'd dived and the boys had tagged along because they felt ready to come back near some kind of city as long as they were supervised. They didn't voice it though. Like everything else. The two boys had spent some time in Sicheng's room with his mother's makeup bag before going out. There was barely nothing, a dry eyeliner, an old wedding lipstick, a blush and a single nude eyeshadow. Taeyong had pulled miracles out of it, Sicheng had just used the eyeliner. They looked through the wardrobe and tried different kind of clothes to find the nicest, and eventually, the older put back on the nice heeled-shoes he'd arrived with. And so they'd left, looking good, feeling good, ready to bloom back.

Sicheng didn't know if every cities had changed so much in such a short time, or if now that he'd lived this life he could recognize the shame in every dark corner. They'd barely stayed half an hour around the market. _Go shop with Hwaseung, I'll keep the stand_ his mother had said. It hadn't taken long for Taeyong to start gripping his sleeve, long nails digging in his arm and living crescent moon shapes. But Sicheng saw, or rather, he _felt_. Walking the streets like this, the two of them in line, without even thinking about it, they started looking around. They were not interested in what was in display in every shop window. Their mind were somewhere else, by instinct, there an alley, here a backstreet, the broken door of an underground parking lot, a staircase leading to a rooftop, a guy waiting before a streetlamp and the calling gaping mouth of a subway station. They walked closer, they stopped, trying to breathe, trying to pretend they were fine and looking for a jeans shop. They couldn't fool each other, so why were they trying again and again ?

Taeil had once told Sicheng that you don't leave Jinju that easily, because everywhere you go you bring it with you. People _know_ , they _see_ it in you. He'd never believed it. Now he did, as he was standing still in the middle of the street, Taeyong close against his flank, and a young guy across the road fixing him. He seemed barely younger than the both of them, in streets-wear, his circled eyes hollow yet piercing. He knew.

“Let's move.” Taeyong had breathed out, a whimper, nothing of the leader he'd been and everything of the terrified boy he'd tried to muffle inside.

They left the place almost running, and begged Sicheng's mom to leave, too scared even to just wait in the van. The four left the town before noon, with nothing sold and guilt hanging lower in the air.

The man had not pulled the brake that Taeyong and Sicheng were bolting out of the car, making a bee line for the house. Nothing was ever locked in the country, and they just spilled in the house like water out of a falling vase, taking their shining shoes off and throwing them back in the closet before locking themselves in the bathroom. They sat on the tiled floor, a mirror in one hand and a cleansing cotton on the other. They scrubbed at their faces like they would of a dirty wall and exited the place after having showered, their back on each others, washing the sweat and the makeup away. They drank apple juice in the lounger, their face red around the eyes from their ministrations and skin still damp from the shower. They also had red eyes back in Jinju, but it was not the same anymore. They liked the stickiness of the salted air better than the stickiness of a night spent under the stagnant heat around car's exhaust pipes. Going out was terrifying, talking to adults and not exchanging money or drugs or stolen ware was beyond their capacities. They could have tried to make small talks, they just didn't know anymore what to say else, and they understood each others better.

“I like it here.” Taeyong said, his lids heavy on his bare doe eyes.

They would not go back.

“They will make it out. In Jinju. They have everything they need to get out of it.” Sicheng exhaled back, eyes already closed and tired from the morning's stress.

They still slept a lot from quitting all drugs, but it was becoming okay. And while sleeping it was easier to make up stories and to keep on thinking that with the money, the Jinju crew will stop their shenanigans and seek for rehab and help. Of course. They voiced it every now and then, hands touching when no one was there to listen or to see.

It was starting to be easier to live within the house. They didn't feel as alien as they did before, and the everyday little things people used to do were coming back naturally. Eating during daytime, sleeping during nighttime, watching TV while sitting on the living room's floor, taking showers, these simple things they'd stopped doing for too many months. They went grocery shopping together and read the little job propositions on glass doors, feigning interest, both aching to do something to fit back and scared to have responsibilities. Weirdly enough, Taeyong was the first one to look at them, and the most inclined to take a job.

“I could work at the store ?”

“Wouldn't you want to take stuffs for you ?” Sicheng had snickered as they were crossing a little road from the convenient store to the house.

“True.”

When it was just them, and now that they were done with this life, it was easier to talk about stealing and dealing. Before, it would have been tricky, because it still felt like a part of them, and talking about it would have just been like admitting their faults. Now that they'd cut ties with Seoul, it was more like talking about someone else. Sicheng liked it. He liked to wake up in the country and look outside the window, and sometimes dare venture by himself – which means without his mom or the man to watch out, but always with Taeyong – and look at the sea. They'd went near the ocean and Taeyong had loved it. They'd eaten industrial donuts and had eaten from an elevated scrap of grass above the waves.

 

“Go back home, I'll just go buy something. Will take two minutes.” Sicheng said while lightly pushing Taeyong toward the house's direction.

“If it's two minute I don't mind coming” Taeyong said back, toying with the bracelet he was wearing around his thin wrist.

“No really, it's fine, just go turn the TV on ? And chose something to watch ? So when I come home it's all ready.” Sicheng vomited, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible.

Taeyong didn't raised his head but he locked eyes with Sicheng, before stepping aside and walking toward the house, his long legs carrying him fast but not quite concealing his apprehension.

Sicheng stood before the adults aisles, looked above the shelf at the bored teenager playing on her phone behind the counter. A one time thing wouldn't hurt he thought. He left the store, hands deep in his sportswear's pockets, clutching at the little bottle and the packet he'd taken.

 

“You're pretty.” Sicheng said.

“I've heard that somewhere.” Taeyong said without any heat, combing his dark hair while looking at his reflection, sitting on the matted floor.

“You're hot.” Sicheng tried, tasting the sound on his tongue, feeling like a kid playing grownup.

Taeyong hummed unimpressed, not meaning to harm or vex the younger. He'd probably just heard it over and over.

“Hyung, am I your boyfriend ?”

Taeyong stopped combing his hair and turned around toward him. Sicheng was feeling weirdly calm. He was resting on his outstretched arms, eying the older expectantly. Taeyong's eyes dropped to the floor and he turned back toward the mirror hurriedly, brushing his hair meticulously.

“What are you talking about this time.” he muttered, a shiver running up his spine and raising the hair on his frail arms.

“Will you stay with me forever ?”

“Stop saying such things Cheng, what the fuck.”

It was funny to see how uncomfortable Taeyong was with hearing words of love and forever when he was such a pretty man.

“Where would I go anyway” he stuttered, holding on his comb and resolutely not turning toward the younger.

“I want more.”

“what is there more to get now that we made it here ?”

“I want to make love. To you.” Sicheng said unabashedly, now lying on the wooden floor and boring holes in Taeyong's back with his eyes.

Taeyong turned around and looked at him like an adult looks a child, expressionless and maybe a bit guarded, his hands around the comb held close to his chest :

“Who taught you that ?” he said mightily, going back to his work before the mirror.

“Why no one taught you that ?” Sicheng replied back.

He didn't mean it in a bad way. He was coming to term with the fact that Taeyong had not waited for him to pop up in his life to flirt with guys. Once again, he was a pretty man, and must have been a beautiful boy since day one. And Taeyong lived on the street in a complex of growing boys, dealing with other boys, never learning about self preservation and basic decency. It was easy to forget yourself at Jinju, and it was even easier to forget about the others. That they are as much as you, that they deserve respect the same way. You earn respect with your fists around the marketplace, and those who are not respected are overpowered. Taeyong, like everyone else, had been a victim before being an abuser, beaten to the ground before blooming stronger. He'd heard the same words his whole life, probably sooner than he should have ; pretty, beautiful, hot, sexy, fuckable maybe. Taeyong knew nothing of love. He knew nothing at all. He could look down on Sicheng as much as he wanted, his affective life was a no-man's land, a dead-zone of ugly things. He was on the other side of an almost burnt down bridge, still seeing he was missing on but unable to reach.

_Wo ai ni._

“What does that mean ?” Taeyong asked, because Sicheng had spoken out loud.

Sicheng got up and moved closer to the older, his hands on the other's shoulders and facing him very seriously.

“What you said. What does it mean Sicheng ?” Taeyong asked because Sicheng was getting closer and he was growing nervous.

But eventually, their lips touched and Sicheng closed his eyes. Maybe Taeyong didn't and it was okay. He wouldn't explain what _wo ai ni_ means. You don't explain love. Only feel it.

He wanted to cradle the Korean boy in his arms, squeeze him as hard as possible, lie him down and touch his body all over. But he didn't want Taeyong to think he was doing all of that just to get in his pants. So he kissed the older again and again, and the other responded to his kiss, angling himself so that his body was facing Sicheng's, his legs above Sicheng's and curling slightly behind the younger's back. They moved to Sicheng's bed and they held each other close, lips against lips and tongue against tongue, growing needy and full of desire but never overstepping anything. Sicheng had to pace himself every now and then, hypersensitive as he'd never done anything like this, sometimes breaking the kiss and hiding his flushed face in the crook of Taeyong neck, moaning in the pillow and curling his fingers in fists not to touch the older or himself. Taeyong kissed the top of his head, his neck, tried to rut against him but Sicheng always anchored him with a long hand flat on the other's stomach. If the older moved now, Sicheng would lose it all. He wanted to see Taeyong, wanted to touch him, to hear him, and seeing him wriggling under his splayed fingers on his abdomen was the best sight to witness so far.

But they had time. Now, tomorrow was a certainty. The sun would rise again, and so would they.

Unstoppable. Dust in the wind.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> added tags for explicit sexual content. That's prettily much all you want to know ha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slam dunked this chapter in a day, it's 2am and it's not betaed. once again will work on it tomorrow maybe. leave a comment please, i'll keep on working.  
> Love, Pony.

“Has someone seen Sicheng ?”

Everyone was starring at her with apprehension.

“My- My son ! Dong Sicheng ?”

Holding herself on a fence. Turning around. Grabbing a passer-bye's shoulders :

“Did you see Sicheng ? Did he- did he passed by your shop… did… someone please !”

It was a real ruckus around Seongsan Eup's covered street market. The old ladies with their grandchild, the middle aged fisher men, the mothers with their wicker grocery baskets, every one was slowing in the middle of the aisles, looking for this woman who'd lost her mind, running in circles and tearing the hair out of her head. Not far from there, her house was standing tall, the door unlocked, the rooms silent. Everything was quiet and peaceful on this midday of October. It was like every day before a child goes missing. Terribly plain, but suddenly unforgettable.

 

*

 

“It will soon be October. Did you plan on… going back to uni… ? Or trying a little part time job ?”

Sicheng's mother's was still tip-toeing around the subject but was growing more pressing. She was scared to see her son shrink here, close himself with this boy he'd brought along and never get out of it. She had been so proud when he'd been taken in this university in the capital. She'd dreamed so much for him in this room in Seongsan Eup, lying in bed, watching TV on her little couch, unloading the groceries on the kitchen table. She'd dreamed of her graduating son, of her CEO son, of a married son with responsibilities in his company and children to raise. These dreams seemed far away, just like the little boy she'd raised herself. She didn't know when things had broken, if it had been her fault, if it had happened long before Seoul and that the distance had just made things worse. Often now she would think about her divorce and weep, senselessly turning the same events over and over. But nowhere could she find an answer or a way to fix things back. That's the thing with the past she learned bitterly. No matter how often you play it back, there's never anything knew to discover. But at the same time she was scared to trigger him, she was scared to come home to an empty room. She knew he was feeling himself at home here, and also that his _friend_ was not planning on leaving either, so there was little to no chance that they would escape. Still. She was just a mother after all. Him dropping school to take a little job would be okay for her. She would care for him until the end.

Sicheng had nodded, saying that Taeyong was interested in the nearby's little market cashier post.

“What about you ?”

“I could… work in the aisles. Or something like that ?” he'd shrugged back, looking at the back of his hands.

She'd acquiesced and turned back to her boiling pot of water.

“I will go to the street market by the end of the week. Is there something you'd like to eat ?”

“Not really no. I'll go ask Taeyong.”

His mom nodded, checking one cane she was holding as he left the kitchen, venturing in the house and ignoring Hwaseung who was entering home. Sicheng slipped by the crack of the friend's door.

“Mom was wondering if you want something special since she'll go to the street market.”

“There's a street market here ?” The older asked from where he was curled on the bed, reading a magazine that he purposefully hide back under the mattress.

So that's where all the living-room's magazine went. He hadn't seen it coming but was not exactly surprised either.

“Yeah, they start one big twice a year, at the end of summer and the next one is at the end of winter. There's a festival going on too.”

“So there will be a festival ?”

“All week long yes.”

“Do you want to go.”

“Do _you_ want to go ?”

Taeyong sat on the bed, facing Sicheng then the closed door.

“Will your mother go ?”

“Probably, she goes every time if the weather is nice enough.”

“Well then I do hope the weather will be nice.”

“So you want to go ?”

Taeyong didn't answer but climbed out of the bed like a sleepy cat then stopped next to Sicheng and murmured in his ear with a Cheshire grin on his face :

“You promised me some sex and I could name a few parts of me that ache for attention so… tell me when the house is cleared okay ?”

Sicheng never left a room so quickly. He'd always hated cold showers, but sometimes they were unavoidable.

Eating in front of Taeyong was a plain pain that night, with their feet touching under the table and his mother and the man just next to them. It also was a pain to go to bed to realize that Taeyong would not come see him. The little pest was probably letting him suffer on his own. Sicheng was not one to pray but he found himself talking to the gods and asking for a piece of blue sky on the night of the festival.

 

*

 

Making love was way more complicated than what Sicheng's bravado had let out. The best he'd done in the area was jerk off with another guy during his horny stage of life, aka late high-school in a public bathroom because he couldn't come home with a random dude. He'd been totally overwhelmed when Taeyong had slipped in his room the moment the door had closed behind his mother. Having the right to touch the older's body was another challenge as Taeyong had always been the kind to purse his lips. Sicheng had cursed more in one night than he'd ever in a lifetime so far, completely awstrucked by Taeyong's beauty. He wanted to sit back and look at his body like one would look at a statue, with wonder in his eyes and a fear to touch and to break. It was weird how beauty comes hand in hand with terror, but it's exactly what he felt as he put his fingers on Taeyong's bare torso, caressed his skin with shaking hands, unable to stop himself.

“You've never seen a chest or what” the older breathed petulantly, eyes full of lust from where he was lying on the bed and supporting him on his elbows.

“No...” Sicheng replied dumbly because he was not exactly paying attention.

“Don't be nervous like this...”

“Can I kiss it ?”

Taeyong had bitten his lip and fell right back on the pillows, probably too embarrassed to answer. So Sicheng had moved closer and kissed hesitantly the smooth skin above his ribcage, dragging his lips around everywhere and leave feather kisses.

If the older liked to order around and lead the way in his everyday life, he happened to be a soft and needy boy in bed and it was only triggering Sicheng's inner possessive monster. But he was still too stressed to move Taeyong around the way the older would probably have wanted. Taeyong took his pajama pants off and kindly avoided giving Sicheng a blowjob because they both knew the younger wouldn't survive it yet, and it was a night for feelings. Taeyong undressed Sicheng and the younger couldn't feel the extremities of his fingers, his blood pumping in his ears then completely living his upper body. Taeyong kissed him a lot, languidly, sloppily, trying to get him to calm down and to just feel the pleasure. Eventually he lied down on his back and opened his legs for the younger. Sicheng could have passed out, his hands rubbing Taeyong's thighs, devouring the other with his eyes, touching everywhere and cursing and moaning with just the sight. He liked to hear Taeyong's voice, his sharp intake of breathes when he touched him, and his whimpers when he entered him with one finger.

The older was like an easy map, his expressive face showing Sicheng what to do and what to avoid, and soon he was inside, so glad to have “bought” lub and condoms earlier that week. The feeling was unexplainable, and he groaned when he bottomed out, or when Taeyong experimentally clenched around him. He younger closed his eyes, Taeyong's cool hands rising to hold his cheeks :

“You're doing good baby… You're inside it's good… okay...” he breathed out.

Sicheng bit his lip and let his head fall in the crook of the older's neck, unable to process all the feelings he had for Taeyong, or the signals his body was sending. Taeyong ondulated slowly, his breathe heavy but not quite moaning, just enjoying the intrusion and testing it out. Like an instinct, Sicheng's hips thrusted back and Taeyong let out a cry, clasping his hands in the younger's back :

“Slower slower slower” he chanted like a mantra.

But Sicheng was too nervous to do anything, he thrusted a few time, trembling like a leaf, hiding against Taeyong and babbling words in Chinese. He was breathing hard, his arms tensed around the older's flushed face, his dark brown hair splayed on the pillow and sticking to his forehead with sweat. It took some time for Taeyong to understand, but quite easily he circled the younger's head with his arms, pressing his face harder against his torso before murmuring against the top of his head :

“You can come baby… you can come…”

Sicheng never felt so much adoration and love for someone than at this moment. Taeyong was just leaving his own pleasure aside because he understood it was difficult for Sicheng to handle the situation. And Sicheng couldn't even feel embarrassed when he should have. They understood each others. Maybe that was love. Wo ai ni, maybe that's how you felt it.

Sicheng had dancing stars before his eyes by the end of the night, but it just strengthen their bond, and after that he kissed Taeyong again and they pleasantly rutted against each other and the older came with pretty moans Sicheng engraved in his mind.

 

*

 

With his first time, Sicheng remarked a surge in his libido. He wanted to be near Taeyong all the time and preferably undress him to have his way with him. He grew confident almost immediately now that he knew what to do and that Taeyong would always be kind to him and actually was really greedy for sex. The older had cried on their first night and he'd loved it in a way that he didn't think was misplaced. Taeyong and him wrote down the things they would like to try and indeed the other boy was a wildcat, and he was not scared to say that he liked to be manhandled. Which after scientific tryout, was true. And Sicheng loved to manhandle his smaller boyfriend, with his arching slender back and waist so thin he would almost circle it entirely when he grabbed him there. Taeyong was vocal and could be really loud when he came. He liked when Sicheng touched his hair and just touched him in general, which was a nice way to cover Sicheng's body worship that he had for Taeyong. Foreplay was nice too, and since they spent their days at home, they had all the time in the world to try out new things. Taeyong had an oral fixation and would spend his afternoon lying on his stomach on the bed, between Sicheng's legs, supporting his head with his hands like a pouty teenager and suck the younger's dick like a skilled god. Sicheng fell for it every time, Taeyong's tongue was going places. Sicheng liked to watch the older's toes curl in pleasure because it happened all the time. Taeyong would wriggle and start crying out, either of pleasure or for attention, touching himself all around as if in pain and begging to be touched. Sicheng never orgasmed so hard than the day Taeyong rode him for the first time, his sinful body on display.

It was amazing Sicheng every time how easy it was for them. He didn't feel embarrassed a single time since they started having sex together. Their first time had been very intimate but after that they'd tried out more ways to relieve themselves and sometimes it was for the sole purpose to kill boredom with quickies or just lazy masturbation session. But even after that, when they were dressing back or walking down the street or eating at the table, he never felt nervous to look Taeyong in the eyes. It was nice. They could come home from grocery shopping and just say “wanna have sex ?” and either answer yes or no and that was it. They both liked it here. They didn't want to think about the outside world.

 

Now, seating in the police office all Sicheng could do was realize that, keeping his eyes focused on Taeyong, he had never checked what was going ahead.

 

*

 

They were leaving their spot in the sand of the little beach under the high rocky coast. The place was deserted as the water was chilling slowly, and the patch of sand was rather far from the huge seaside resorts on the northern side of the island. The sun was starting to descend as the afternoon was turning into early evening. Taeyong went home first as Sicheng went by the grocery store to buy cigarettes. He fished a box of condom in his tote bag and walked toward the press aisle just pretending to look it through before going to the cashier and ask for his usual packet. But as he was wandering mindlessly, the headline of the daily news caught his attention. The average picture of the high towers of a heated city complex that was not Jinju, and yet above, bold letters, froze his blood in his veins.

In the house, Taeyong sat on the floor and turned the tv on, comfortable enough to stay in the living room since the place would still be empty for another half an hour. He placed the plates he'd started to eat from on the wooden floor next to him and changed channels until the news popped up. He was not one to watch it, it was boring and soon enough he would zone out of it. But the paneling view of a city complex just caught his fancy and he slowly put the remote down. Words were blurred, the bandeau down the screen replaying the same catchy sentences over and over again.

In the store Sicheng took the newspaper in his hands, his heart beating in his ears.

In the house Taeyong got up from his spot, feeling ice run all over his body.

_upsurge of violence in the capital_

_drug settlement gone wrong_

_gangland slaying causes casualties younger and younger over the years_

_one gangmember found dead shot in the head when the emergencies arrived_

_victim Kim D.Y. is a 22 year old Seoulite..._

Kim Do Young.

Kim Do Young.

Neither Taeyong nor Sicheng remember what they felt when the information sank in. It's a blackout. Sicheng only knows that his memory works back from the moment he saw Taeyong's shadow running toward the field behind the house. He ran there too, with the noise muffled all around, just his heart spilling out of his mouth, how he almost crashed into the older how was digging the dry soil with his bare hands, his white farm shirt covered in dirt. He remembers bolting toward the house and taking the van's keys in his hands before closing the door and running toward the car. He remembers the knowledge that Taeyong boarded the car as he himself was trying to turn the engine on, the doorcar slamming shut and the vehicle roaring to life.

He can still feel his feet on the speed pedal sometimes, when he lies down in the dark at night and his body reminisces of the violence he felt that evening.

The sky was clear, the sun setting and the stars starting to shine when they left, Taeyong plugging the phone on the car's to turn it on, hysterical and violent, Sicheng gripping the wheel and speeding toward the continent. The sky was clear too when his mother woke up the next morning, not minding the night before that the boys were silent in one room or that they'd left their food plate in the living room after eating. The sky was still clear when she called them out and the silence answered. Everything was clear and bright when she bursted in her son's room and was met with her worst nightmare. Everyone was gathered in the street-market and everyone ached for her, witnessing with their eyes the too common tragedy of a mother losing a child over the crowd.

But her child was far already. Jinju had called back, as she should have known it would, and nothing could stop them now.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's one am and Gemini's remix of Lana Del Rey's Born to Die was on shuffle. I have no other excuses. This chapter is like three pages long and i vomitted them between mignight and now so it's really short but I don't feel like starting a new action right after as it wouldn't fit the mood of the first half and i think it would be a shame. Anyway, hope you'll like it. Will beta tomorrow when i hopefully catch some sleep.  
> Love, Pony.

They drove for as long as the van held, and just abandoned the vehicle when they ran out of gas. It was a long trip back, longer than what they'd expected as they'd slept through it last time. Sicheng tried to drive as much as possible, not trusting Taeyong with the wheel in his state of hysteria and helplessness, and actually selfishly unable to withstand sitting on the passenger seat and watch the road unroll endlessly.

When the van stopped for good, they walked to the next gas station and hitched their way to the capital. The whole process lengthened the journey by two days where they waited for hours on end on the backseats of conveyer truck or small seller's van like Hwaseung's. Looking through the window and counting the trees slowly morph into streetlamps as they drew closer to cities probably helped Sicheng transitioned from the life he was starting to accept and enjoy, far from everything, and the one he was willingly coming back to, or so he thought. He remembered the night at Jinju when he'd missed the countryside and the trees and the breeze and the light sky. Now his attention was caught everytime concrete was in sight. It was not _home,_ but neither was Jeju anymore, and he was once again catapulted in a place he didn't know how to name, not unknown but so foreign. Would he make it back to Jinju ? Would he go back to the Market Place ? Would the Jinju crew take them back in ?

The issue with boredom was that nothing good could come out of it. Taeyong was dead silent, looking ahead with dark circles under his eyes as the little sleep he could catch was always full of nightmare and blood slashes. The good thing was that he'd had all the time in the world to process what was going on and start rummaging in every town station they stopped at to get more info on what had happened. They didn't find much. The one time punch-like article had not brought more curious stares and inked had quickly stopped flowing after that. Barely a flash news on the left side of a page, tucked between two other insignificant columns. They just found a place.

They exited the last car of their journey by the end of the third day, the city bathing in a burning orange color, totally inappropriate considering the season, and their shadows growing ahead of them on the pavement like humanoid creatures. They stopped in a deserted street, quite a reasonable size, neither too big nor ridiculously cramped. It was just a street, and as it was just a nobody that had been there too, the cop's yellow keep out signs were already gone. But it was there. Sicheng recognized the high buildings of the front pages, some neighborhood they'd heard about, stranded between Bucheon and Gwangmyeong. They stood in silence above a certain point, facing each others but looking at the ground, like circling it, like prayers, like they would do before a coffin. There was no coffin. There was no body either. All that was left of Doyoung was a fainted stain, the remnants of a bloodshed too important to erase. It was probably there that his head had hit the asphalt as he was already dead. Sicheng caught Taeyong's eyes trailing further to the left, imagining the scene. It was easy to step back, get out of their own bodies and see a third own falling, so familiar that they could know him blind. His limp corpse crashing on the middle of the road, and the streak of blood from the gunshot.

Heads bleed a lot. It's all that was left.

 

They had no tears left they presumed and they didn't cry before the unbearable sight. Maybe that it had something to do with the fact that it seemed really unbelievable, how easily people die. For Sicheng who's only death experience was an unknown uncle on his father's side when he was in third grade, facing it in such abstract yet violent way was inconceivable. It was inconceivable that this stain was the Doyoung he'd known, or that people could just end up like that. A smear on the road that will stay as a shame for a while until the cars and the sun get the job done and erase it for good. Then there would be nothing left of Doyoung, he would just be a memory in their mind. You're not a memory when you're twenty two. Sicheng couldn't wrap his head around it. He was not in denial. He just couldn't understand it.

They walked until they entered Seoul and easily disappeared in a subway mouth, finally breathing now that they were drowning in the crowd of busy people who knew nothing of death. It's like they'd held their breath at Jeju, wanting desperately to belong in a place where they were scared to speak because there was not a sound to hear in miles. They didn't need to speak to each other, they just took a subway after the other, unable to touch but not leaving the other's side and exiting the crowded place on instinct. They resurfaced on a busy street and the night had settled, leaving the air chiller than before. They barely felt the goose-bump raising on their arms as they pushed the door of a food establishment trapped between two others. The neon sign had known better days but people kept on coming in and out. People Sicheng and Taeyong knew, people they thought they'd never see back. They looked at the two men with surprise at first, a sad light in their eyes, but easily gone. They couldn't empathize on every boy that loses one of them. They were too many and there was not enough eyes to cry. It was both relieving and terribly isolating, Sicheng thought, as they made their way toward the counter and waited there. A small man appeared, cleaning a plate with a holed towel, and when he saw them, his dark eyebrows furrowed. Kyungsoo left toward the kitchen without a word and a tired Onew emerged from the steamy background. His body stilled when he saw them standing there, a vacant look in their eyes and a defeated stance in their shoulders. He swallowed and his shoulders dropped too, but he opened the counter's trap for them to get to the backdoor and they settled on a shitty couch with a goblet of steaming coffee that neither Taeyong nor Sicheng touched. They held it in their hands as the scorching heat bore holes in their palms, the only source of warmth they could ever get. Onew sat on a chair in front of them and Sicheng suddenly saw himself back in the hairsalon's backroom, sitting in the sofa with his pasta box in hands, talking seriously with Ten on a chair in front of him.

The thing with dead people is, you don't get sad over _them_ all the time. It makes you sad  over __everything__ all the time. It's not them anymore. Life just lost a bit of its balance, of its color, things don't click back, and so Sicheng cracked. His head fell between his shoulders, elbows supporting him on his knees and the tears started to fall down. He didn't try to muffle his cries, he couldn't think about that anymore, he just tried to keep on breathing between every huge sobs that broke out of his chest. He couldn't close his eyes anymore and he ached from everywhere, it was in his body and it was in his head, and he didn't want to be there. He wanted to be home and cradled by his mother, he wanted to be on the beach sleeping next to Taeyong, he wanted to be back to Jinju, in a comfortable pile of overheated snoring bodies, he wanted to be in Ten's hairsalon and eat pastas, he wanted to play card with Jungwoo and Lucas, he wanted to beat Doyoung at videos games and sell more on the streets than Mark. And so he cried and cried and cried, because all he wanted was to be surrounded and held tight and have something that links him back to a  _home_  somewhere but received none of it and never felt so alone of his entire life.

He probably passed out after that, maybe next to Taeyong, but they didn't touch, because his body felt cold all over, stripped of human warmth. Onew stayed silent in his chair and Sicheng didn't mind that he broke before him. Taeyong and him didn't chose Onew's place for nothing. The older had a sadness in his eyes he would never get ride of, and he understood that there were no words to bring back what you realized you'd lost. So maybe the oldest saw Minho in Sicheng's passed out form, because he too lost someone and he too had a memory in his mind of a twenty seven year old who will never make it back.


	22. Chapter 22

Onew let them sleep here for the night. When Taeyong and Sicheng woke up the next morning, there was a note for them on the table saying they could stay for a while if needed. They left without a word, taking the back door and disappearing in the crowd. Sicheng had no idea what time it was, and since their old phones were out for good, they settled on finding a new one. Taeyong easily spotted an isolated kid coming back from school, probably for lunch break. He was walking alone, a fourth grader, eleven years old at most and engrossed in his game. Taeyong moved first, because Sicheng had never done that, and he just followed silently as the older crossed the street to the more quiet one where the kid was heading.

“Hey kid, could you tell us what time it is ?” Taeyong asked voice quiet and warm despite not having talk for over a few days.

The boy looked up at them and his eyes widened a bit when he saw the older's face, attractive but without all the vibrant makeup. Everyone would trust Taeyong.

“Can I see ?” he asked again, making grabby hand at the phone and the kid just gave it hurriedly, waiting like an idiot as Taeyong turned the device in his hand and pretended to look at the front clock.

And just like that, he bolted away. It took about a second to Sicheng, dumbfounded, but his legs knew, and so he turned on his heels and ran after the older, deaf to the pleading and whining of the boy trying to run after them. Sicheng felt a bit bad for the poor kid when they stopped a few blocks away and Taeyong got ride of the flashy squishy blue phone case.

“You okay ?” Sicheng asked with a raspy voice, outstretching a hand toward Taeyong's shoulder.

The other was too concentrated on his task, too serious, but also too unbothered, as if nothing had happened. He looked at his lover and shrugged a bit, mouth set in a pout he probably didn't realize he was sporting :

“I just took a phone” he answered simply.

As if it was just that. There was a difference between stealing something that was on display and stealing from someone, hearing them run after you, stealing from a kid. He reached hesitantly for Taeyong's unbusy hand and was about to push the matter when a voice behind them made them jump :

“Gege ?”

They froze for a moment, Sicheng feeling his heart beating furiously in his ribcage as a wave crashed all over him. Taeyong was the first one to turn around and when he spotted the owner of the voice, his eyes bulged out and he ran toward them :

“ Chenle !”

And it was him, standing tall, looking older than the last time they'd seen him even if it had just been shy of a month. They crushed him in a ribs-breaking hug, the younger giving it back like a child deprived of his mother for too long. It was like the time was stopping a bit, like the world had stopped tilting as he was watching Taeyong engulf the youngest in his frail arms, eyes tearing and chest heaving with too many thoughts and not enough words. He doesn't remember hugging Chenle too, but he can still feel the warmth of another body in this alley, and so he presumes that the little blonde one turned back to him at some point. They probably exchanged hushed Chinese words, maybe he kissed his cheeks like Taeyong did.

Now sitting before this table, Chenle's file in hand, he has troubles remembering what the boy used to look like _before_. Just like in that street, he recognizes him immediately, but the closer you look and the less things seem to click. Sicheng wonders if he stopped clicking for the world around too. And if he does, he wonders when. If it happened when he started running, or if all along, he slowly split in half too.

Back in the street, Chenle sat them down on the sidewalk and spilled everything. Jinju was the last place to go, the Marketplace had taken its rights back and gangs were ruling again :

“What are you doing on the street 'Le ?” Taeyong asked, his eyebrows furrowing “If we are back to business then why aren't you home like you should ?”

“We are not back in business.”

Taeyong's face hardened, his body moved forward to get up but Chenle dropped on his knees and kept him seated :

“I can't be seen with you.”

“Whom by ?” Sicheng asked, the first time he was opening his mouth since the youngest had started speaking.

“Jiyong's.”

“What does this prick has to do with us ?” Taeyong spite.

“It was his. The money. He was the one in charge of the heroine export from China.”

Sicheng stopped breathing. The world was still stopped, but it started tilting :

“The pricks, they are his men right.” he asked softly.

“Yeah.” Chenle answered just as low.

Taeyong took his head in his hand, Sicheng felt too far away to understand his friend's feelings. Everything was drowned.

“What are you doing outside ?” the leader asked, his head still hidden in his knees but his voice dangerous and firm.

Chenle obviously didn't want to answer. He took a step back and lowered his head in shame, eyes shining with young tears.

“What are you doing outside Chenle.”

“Hyung… Gege...” Chenle started sobbing, looking expectantly at his leader then at Sicheng, imploring eyes.

Sicheng thinks he smiled at that moment. He reached out to the boy and closed his eyes, because seeing Chenle crying was like seeing the little boy he still was and not the strange man he was morphing into. He was still that 16 year old blondie after all.

“We are working for him...” he whimpered.

Taeyong probably would have teared his hair out, but Sicheng stopped him before he could get up like a jack in a box, fists ready and mouth vomiting ugly words.

“We've been betrayed...” Chenle explained, each word cutting a wound in their heart.

Taeyong got up.

“From the inside...”

Sicheng followed, holding back his lover, holding _himself_ back _._

“They've been watching our every move to leave us cornered.”

“Who… Who is it….” Taeyong's voice was foreign, halfway between a gurgle and a cry.

Things clicked back in Sicheng's head. It's like his head became clearer and voiced his thought without raising his voice despite Taeyong's ruckus :

“It's Lucas.”

There was a silence as the two others looked at him.

“It's Lucas right ? The money must be gone too.”

“He was the one holding the heroine market with the Chinese seller and was the only one of the china line to know the location of the money stash.” Chenle supplied weakly.

His eyes were still oozing fat tears, lids puffed out and complexion livid. Sicheng was right, and Chenle was still not over it. He ached from all over, just like Taeyong and Sicheng suddenly did.

“I should have listened to Mark...” the older said, and his voice once furry was now helplessness and sorrow. “I should… I should have listened to him...”

Sicheng tried to hold the other upright as his legs started to wobble and his eyes turn glassy from the shock.

“Is he ruling Jinju ?” Sicheng asked, turning his head to Chenle.

Taeyong stirred in his arms. There was still something he could be angry about.

“He left with the money the day we got all caught at the Marketplace by Jiyong's men. We had lost people since the first raid, and some were coming back one after the others, but this time we didn't have a chance. They knew were we would be and they cut the grass right before our feet.”

“Is he the only one ? That left I mean.”

“He took Jungwoo-hyung with him.”

Taeyong closed his eyes and sat back, curling around himself like deadly wounded.

“Poor Jungwoo...” Sicheng thought for all to hear.

They all sat on the concrete of a moment, feet touching when nothing else seemed to bear human contact.

“You're hooked right. They hooked you.” Taeyong said after a while, hands joint around his legs, looking down, sounding both bitter and resigned.

Sicheng's eyes widened and he looked at Chenle who cowered, avoiding his stares and crossing his arms around his chest.

“They make us work and in exchange they give either H or booze. Everyone isn't hooked on heroin. It would be too dangerous for their business to have all the sellers high. But so they are sure we have to come back to them… So now I'm here.”

So now they were here.

“What's left for us ?” Sicheng said to the air.

“Jinju.” came Chenle's unwavering answer.

Jinju.

 

*

 

Parting with the youngest had been difficult. He had promised Taeyong that he would come back to Jinju when he's done working for the day and report to the pricks. Chenle was so relieved to see them that he didn't ask where they'd been all this time. But they both looked exhausted from their three day trip and Doyoung's passing. No one would have believed them anyway. They didn't talk about Doyoung, but his presence shadowed their conversation. The two older asked for Ten and Haechan and learned that Haechan had been released since his father paid his caution and he was a minor. Ten had been released a bit later as he'd had nothing on him to prove he was selling anything on the marketplace.

_They know you. You can't be seen around or they'll catch you for good._

Sicheng was turning Chenle's last word again and again in his head. He'd been talking about the cops. Obviously their names must have turned around after the cop's raid.

They waited nightfall and made a run around the nightlife area, ate leftovers on table while passing by and spotted young inebriated boys drinking by a standing bar. They were too drunk to pay them any mind, and so the two boys took on the street, looked at the different dark bikes parked around and settled for the lightest. Sicheng was standing before it, smoking distractedly and eying the party-goers as Taeyong was playing magic with the wires. The engine roared to life after an anxiously long moment and Sicheng froze a moment, waiting for the guys to turn around from the other side of the street and yell at them but they didn't. Life was going by and so he turned around at light speed and sat behind Taeyong on the rusty leather seat.

Later on, he would pretend to be one of these kids too, sitting on a cool bike and rushing in Seoul's traffic, a bit high and a lot happy. Not tonight. Tonight they were coming back to Jinju, like pulled on by an invisible string they didn't even want to break.

Going back took forever, and not long enough. It took forever for the ache in Sicheng's heart to see his brothers back, to fit back in, but all the same, the thunder that the sight of the towers caused in his chest was too brutal and too sudden. It was like his heart stopped beating and struggled to run again. The gigantic metallic teeth emerging from the ground were indecipherable against the dark sky. No lights were shining at their windows, and no sounds could be heard. _Neo Got My Back_ was not flowing in the air like a pirate's banner and their battle chant seemed like the stuttered words of a man out of breath.

Taeyong crashed the bike somewhere near the closest park down the complex and started running toward Hall E, grabbing Sicheng's hand in his but paying him no heeds. Doors opened at the ruckus in the entrance, as Taeyong threw himself in Jaehyung's defeated arms. The big guy had dark circles and the stare of a lost boy, but the fire that ignited in his eyes when he saw his leader back couldn't be mistaken. Hope again, the breathe they'd been missing all this time.

Sicheng remembered a thought he'd had a long time ago, when he was still alone in his student flat : _All these open windows but no fresh air._

He was now standing in that hall, unable to move as boys after boys engulfed him in their embraces, tears flowing and screams erupting, and they all jumped trashed around because _hope hope hope_. Jinju's and Jeju's windows had been opened all this time, they'd just waited for _something_ to come when all they'd needed was _someone_. Taeyong was the new air coming back and things would get better now. They would make it out now, all together. So he held everyone in his arms, Mark and his dreamies, all teary eyes and shining cheeks, and the older, bruised against reason but not caring about it.

Johnny struggled at letting Ten go, but the Thai boy stood still before Taeyong and Sicheng. It was celebration all over them, with the lights turned on and the speakers blaring toward the miles of emptiness around, but Ten looked at them with a serenity in his eyes that Sicheng had never seen. A bit of resentment too, that only them could understand, because Ten knew, somehow, something, and Taeyong and Sicheng would have to tell him about Jeju, about their betrayal, this treason, that they held in their heart like a hidden sickness.

They all led together in a huge nest of blankets and pillows thrown on the floor, and they all held each other tightly, unable to sleep but unable to let go or move somewhere else, for for all the soothing feelings in their heart, they were still shorter by three.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after taking ten days to write a chapter i just binge wrote this one which is probbaly almost twice bigger but Whatever my writing pattern is a mess but I'm happy with what i'm doing haha. It's one am again though so unbetaed, will check everything tomorrow morning (i hope).  
> Enjoy this chapter, don't hesitate to say hi to me it would make me really happy. The end is near ? idk i feel things turning to shit real quick lol.  
> Love, Pony.

****“This is not a part of our jurisdiction madame. We are sorry.”

“But my son has gone missing !”

“Your son is legal madame, if he wants to disappear for good, it's his right. Plus it's the music festival season, it happens all the time. Your son will come back soon enough.”

“Are you a policeman ?! Have you lost your mind ?!”

The old cop sitting behind the counter was trying to block out the screeches from the woman in front of him and gestured for one of his younger colleague to just take her out. They'd heard of her somehow, as she'd tried to get all the police stations of the area to find her son, a student nobody with no known criminal past or difficult background.

“She says he went back to Seoul.” the youngest provided when he came back inside the station and stopped before the coffee pot.

The captain shrugged helplessly.

“So what. He studies there. And it's not like we are any close to Seoul. If the kid is in any trouble the capital will take care of it. It's none of our business.”

The youngest bowed by habit and went back to his desk. Nothing never happened here, in a little police station of Jeju island, still too far from the north to get any of the tourists' complaints. Maybe that's why he decided to send a fax to one of the capital's station. His older sister's best friend's in law was working in Seoul as a brigadier and was the pride of the area even though he wasn't even there a month a year. Still, he had his contact in his book as a “fellow cop” and decided to try his luck. Actually, he was not expecting anything. He was just bored, and sending a fax to the capital was like getting invested of an important mission. And also, he knew Dong Sicheng from when they were going to the same highschool. They'd shared a bio class for a semester, and it's only when his name was mention that the cop remembered him. They were the same age, and Sicheng had always seemed to walk next to his shoes, never here nor there, not good despite being far from stupid. In all honesty, the cop was just curious, and that was the nice way to say that he probably was a bit jealous. He typed the fax without sending it and leaned back in his chair, looking at the ceiling with the remaining taste of industrial coffee and the promise of nothing interesting. So he wondered, if it had been him that had run away, would people look for him ? If it had been him running to the capital, would he become successful, get a job in a great station and save people life ? Would he be a hero ? If Dong Sicheng nobody could manage the guts to run away, why couldn't he ?

He thought about it for a while and only came back to one answer. It was comfortable to be here. In a certain way. People like better the uncomfortable they know rather than the comfortable they don't. He had his family here, and his friends, and his former school. But so did Dong Sicheng. So why did Dong Sicheng leave ? What was it that made him leave ? How much and for how long did it hurt before the desire to leave became stronger than the love for the people who remained ?

He sent the fax.

 

*

 

“How do we get them out of it ?”

Taeyong was looking intently at papers scattered around on a table in Ten's bedroom. The Thai had a strange air on his face. He was still Ten, but something was not clicking with him either, like a peck of sand in the clockwork, too small to be noticeable but slowly rusting the mechanism. It was the same withing Sicheng. Something somewhere was itching and he didn't know what nor where and it was just making him angrier day after day.

“We pay back. We dug a fucking whole in their business by stealing the exchange money that night.” Ten replied sternly, sitting on the bed.

“That's why we didn't hear of them at all these last months.”

“They were trying to bond back with the Chinese, find the money back _and_ not sink completely. They have it pretty bad against us.”

Sicheng was sitting next to the window. The air was cooler now, way cooler, and nothing could warm him up. The euphoria that had bloomed when they reunited all together had faded and with it, their feeling of invincibility. The morning had come and the same struggles as yesterday had showed. They were just bigger of two, and still shorter of three, reinvigorated by their leader coming back but still freshly deeply wounded by Doyoung, Lucas and Jungwoo, three names they couldn't even say out loud anymore, the victim, the guilty, and the boy that was both.

 

*

 

Sicheng was becoming pretty good at jinxing bike's wires. Taeyong was still better than him, with his dancing bony fingers, meddling with the colorful strings until any dead foreign piece of metal roared to life.

The night was endless now. They had to hide from cops at all cost and collect as much money as soon as possible. Sicheng was dying to see the pricks back. Not so much to punch them square in the face but to seriously try to get the dreamies out of this mess first. He casted a glance toward Renjun, so small in his too big faux leather jacket, and felt a wave of shame overthrow him. It was the same pang in his chest everytime he crossed one of their path in the city, walking to no end on their patch of sidewalk like flowers waiting for a sun they forgot. He saw them flashing when in the subway, or like moving ghosts when he was in a car, a bus, on bike. He saw them when he was stumbling out of back alleys, and suddenly the light was pouring over main streets and they were there. The streetlamps as only hallo, lonely on the black concrete on the outside of their designated working place, they just wait.

_They stay under the light as the darkness of the night still scares them._

“You hungry ?” he asked Renjun when he bumped into the boy on his way to Yangcheong-gu.

“Yeah.” Renjun muttered, bowing his head, making no moves to follow Sicheng.

“What do you have left.”

“Too much to leave yet” the boy replied resigned, looking stubbornly at the end of the road for a customer to come.

“What do you want. I treat you. They won't stop you from eating as long as you keep working right ?”

Renjun didn't look at him, because the hope was a bit too big to swallow. So Sicheng held him really briefly but tightly before bolting back in the darkness awaiting. On his way to some combini market, he wondered if all their dreamies were scattered around Seoul. Yangcheong-gu was the furthest from Jinju they could get. What about Chenle and Jisung ? Their two youngest were barely home, working at odd hours for odd jobs and rewarded with bottles. Taeyong had caught them once in a parking lot as he and Sicheng were trying to key a car to sell. Taeyong had seen red in the matter of a second, running toward them, slapping the boys on impulse and grabbing the bottle, holding it high in the air in a threatening way. Jisung and Chenle had looked so lost, so terrified at that moment, that Taeyong didn't have it in him to throw the bottle on the pavement. Chenle started sobbing, all nerves breaking and he made grabby hands for the bottle when Taeyong slowly lowered his hand. Taking the alcohol away would not help them in any way. They would just work some more to ask for a new one to the pricks. _Hooked._

They sold the car on an app Taeyong had on his phone and with the money, they kept a bit and bought drug. They knew all of the scene, and all of the scenes knew of them. They sniffed their way to paradise on the disgusting sit of a public bathroom, cleaning the mess while flushing the toilet and waiting for the nosebleed to stop before going out. They had woken up the next morning under the large bridge of the aerial railway, a thirty meter large deck of stone blocks shielding a bus stop.

Sicheng was confident in his condition though. He was not helpless like Chenle and Jisung, or like Jungwoo. Now that he'd weaned at Jeju, he felt a silent feeling of superiority.

“We are not like them. We stopped once, so we can stop whenever we want again. We just take some because we want to, not because we have to. If I want, I stop tomorrow.” He'd said to Taeyong, and for Taeyong to nod without second thoughts.

So Sicheng could break his schedule of gathering money to buy Renjun some food. No big deal. It's not like the money was for him or his consumption in the first place. He felt so selfless, almost jogging to the store. The neon lights were a well known sight, aggressive and ready to catch anyone's fancy, bright and screaming. He pushed the glass door open and moved between the aisles, grabbed a few snacks and chips that he threw under his hoodie before leaving the place. He put his hand on the handle but the door swinged open and he didn't have the time to snap his hood on that the two men before him eyed him suspiciously. Time froze as cold air got inside the shop from the still open door between the three men :

“Dong Sicheng ?” the taller of the two cops asked carefully, one hand raised and the other slowly going for his left hip.

Sicheng didn't wait for him to grab his walkie talkie. He threw the snacks at the men's face and rushed toward the inside of the combini, making a mess of the aisles behind him. He made a 180° turn and almost crashed on a middle aged man. He pushed him aside toward the cops still running behind him.

“Stop him !” he could hear, but fought his way to the outside, walking on the counter, scarring to death the student behind the registering machine, and literally threw himself on the exit glass door which opened in a loud painful bang.

He landed on the ground and right on a set of muscled arms that closed around him like a vice. Sicheng screamed a guttural groan, punched the man with his elbow right in the guts and kicked him in the shin for good measure. The two other cops had made it out and were trying to grab him, but their take on him were shallow enough that he could move his way around out of sheer frustration and determination. He hit one straight on the jaw, his now calloused knuckles not even feeling the blow as he was arming his arm for a second blow. Large hands engulfed his outstretched arm, and others circled his waist, lifting him from the ground to make him lose his balance. Everything was blurred around him, the cops shouting at him to calm down, his own growls, the lights of the police car parked there, the neons, the street signs, the people gathered around. The stars stopped to shine when they carried him inside the car, still wriggling and biting. They threw him on the back sit and locked the door before he could get out, but once he fell on the leather seat, he stopped fighting. They still set the wiring to keep him away from hurting them, and they got in the car as well. On the way to the police station he could have swore he saw Jungwoo wandering aimlessly, his gaze forever soft under the dark bruise. The car disappeared in a tunnel.

 

*

 

“Sicheng, Sicheng… How old are you now… What are you doing with your life boy...”

Sicheng felt hurt somewhere. It striked him that he _didn't know._ What day was it ? The days were shorter and the air colder with each passing hour. Maybe he was 21 already and he had not even known. Maybe it was November now and his twentieth year was over. But maybe not. Maybe it would come within the next week, or tomorrow. Sicheng wanted to celebrate his birthday with the boys at Jinju, and with Taeyong at night. It was night everyday now.

“Get a hold of yourself son… We are tired of hearing about you… We can help you but you just keep on putting yourself in serious troubles and we can't extend our hand forever if you keep on biting. You understand right ? You're not stupid, and you're not a mean one. So stop that. Go back to school. Go back to your parents. Watch after your siblings...”

He didn't answer the first question because he genuinely didn't know and it didn't matter. What mattered was Renjun waiting under his street light, all alone in his circle so bright, like an isolated island, with an empty stomach and heart sadder and sadder.

He didn't talk so they set him on garde à vue.

“We have nothing on him but a punch thrown a few snacks. He could as well have paid them afterward. We have nothing. He wasn't even drunk or high.” on the the middle aged policeman was complaining before the water machine on the back of the station.

Sicheng was listening with his eyes closed, waiting. He escaped in the early morning, when he asked the probationer to get him out for a quick smoke. He gave up on his phone still inside one of the rooms, bolting like a deer when the trainee looked in his pocket for a lighter. The poor young boy only screamed after him, knowing Sicheng for being the fasted bitch in town.

Sicheng was not scared of how easy it had become. Punch, run, steal. He got a phone back in the crowd of the subway and texted Taeyong to delete the number of one of his phone and told him he would not go back to Jinju, afraid that they had bugged him or something.

Sicheng : _I won't take the risk to be a snitch._

Taeyong : _Tell me where you are._

Sicheng texted him the street he'd found Renjun on last night and made his way for the good subway line to get there as soon as possible. He panhandled his way into getting enough to buy a box of donuts at an underground seller in one of the subway hallways but emerged to Yangcheong-gu first, deciding to ask Renjun what he wanted before taking anything. He was too old now to appeal to people's pity while begging, but asking for a buck or two to buy a train ticket, pretending to be a forgetful student always worked. “Do you have 100 won ? It's for the sub please ?” and people just gave. Most of the time.

He walked as fast as he could to the street, a bit lost now that the place was under daylight. The sidewalks seemed bigger now that they were not nothing but distant circles of light in the middle of a black nothing. He frowned when he got closer and a realized it was not Renjun cooling his heel on the pavement.

“Kun ?” Sicheng inquired, and the hooded boy turned toward him.

“Gege ?”

“Where is Renjun ?”

“Don't know. We turn over, but I just took over Haechan.”

Sicheng was completely dejected for some unknown reason. So dejected that he didn't even think about taking Kun on his previous offer and buy him something. His dreamies where not his dreamies anymore. They were just boy working illegally, slaves of this city and its tentacular roadways.

He went back to the subway, texted Taeyong without thinking about it and waited in front of a public bathroom. It was easy money, maybe the dirtiest, but easy still, and so he would do. The back of his neck was crawling with little insects and things were just setting his mood off but a grandma finally got inside. He waited a bit for the old woman to disappear before crossing the street to it. He easily spotted the cubicle she was in as it was the only closed one. Stealing bags was easy as long as one could put aside any shame. All he had to do was turn the doorknob in such way that the bag on the other side, hanging from it, would fall on the ground. Then he could snatch it from under the door as the cubicles where never completely closed. He could just run away with the bag, the grandmas would never get out with their dress around their ankles and the time it would take them to dress back, Sicheng would be far. It was dirty indeed. But Sicheng had no shame. In, lower the handle, snatch, out. He had his fix not ten minutes after coming inside the bathroom.

He took his fix mindlessly and when the blow striked for good, he sat under a bus stop and waited for Taeyong to arrive. He was not expecting for his lover to show up all bruised, fresh blood oozing out of his perfect nose. High up Sicheng tried to get up, held himself on Taeyong's shoulders and held him tight in front of him, his face shaded by his hood but still showing traces of a recent fight.

“Who hurt you… Love who hurt you...” he mumbled, still too far gone to process his words correctly but feeling his blood boil, his memory recoiling seeing the same bruises on a different face.

“I punched him twice as hard. This bastard.” Taeyong bite back, jaw tight.

“Who ?” Sicheng asked, but he already knew.

“I saw him.”

Lucas.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breathless_Dreams wrote something about this story that really striked me. They said "it reads like how I would imagine a dream sequence or mirage might" and i realized that it is kind of what i'd like one to feel when they read this story. Sicheng's life is like a mirage. Dust in the wind indeed. This chapter might not be the most "dream-like" but yeah. I was touched to read that. Thank you.  
> Love, Pony.

“He wanted to talk he said. Ah this bastard. I should have knacked him with a knife.”

“Who punched first ?” Sicheng inquired, more interested in his state of mind by who'd hurt his lover first.

“Me of course. Ah this asshole… Ah ! I could kill him !”

Taeyong was breathing through the nose, eyes muredrous, the cut on his lip open again and bleeding widely. He took his head in hair and started massaging his scalp violently with his blunt nails :

“Came with these sad eyes to my FACE ! With tears rolling down as if HE CARED ! AH ! What an asshole, I can't. Did he hurt his head ? Is he for real ?” Taeyong laughed a bitter and slithly hysterical laugh. “Ah this bastard, aish… He wanted to talk ? Should have done that BEFORE killing Doyoung. BEFORE abducting Jungwoo. BEFORE betraying every one of us ! I am LOSING MY MIND.”

Sicheng tried to calm Taeyong but his voice was making ups and downs under the rage he was feeling and his outbursts were occurring every two words of a sentence. It was easier to be hysterical than to cry. If they started, they wouldn't stop, and anger fuels the body more than tears can. So Sicheng accepted Taeyong's anger, let it get inside of him as well when he should have simmered down. They didn't. They both cursed until tiredness striked them down, and they woke up the next morning with disgust plaguing their mouth.

 

*

 

Nights were so cold lately that Sicheng was glad Taeyong gave up on staying in Jinju to sleep next to him. It was around three am, the wind was icy and Sicheng was on the verge to break the other guy's face :

“This is worth way more than 100 won you bastard ! It's branded asshole, are you blind ?”

Taeyong was trotting toward them on the background empty handed. He'd probably managed to sell back all the things they stole from bags and coat pockets. But this guy was stubborn as hell and didn't want to buy Sicheng's handbag :

“Listen man, it's 100 or you find someone to sell your crap.”

Sicheng was going for the man's throat but Sicheng just dragged him back, throwing nasty glances at the middle aged man who cowered away, threatening them weakly.

“I sold everything. We can buy ourselves something and sleep at a karaoke bar.” Taeyong murmured against Sicheng's ear, low and enticing like he knew how to do it.

The older's bruise had subsided but his resentment toward Lucas was still burning. It would help through winter they hoped. It made Sicheng angrier at times, but also bolder. He had a violence in his heart he couldn't contain. It was overflowing in his red fingers and bruised knuckles, in his sore feet and his aching joints. It was out of his mouth, at the end of every word, nothing nice to say to someone who wasn't of _his_ people. He was now the man with a pocket-knife and the will to take it out, the Taemin he'd looked down onto, but after becoming one, he understood that it wasn't that bad.

“We should take everyone there.” Sicheng said, biting on his bleeding nails.

“What ?” Taeyong asked matter-of-factly, lighting a cigarette before handing the lighter for Sicheng.

“I miss Jinju. I miss everyone. Let's party.”

They couldn't afford to party. But maybe they didn't have to afford anything anymore as nothing that came to their hands was theirs. It was a shit idea.

“I wanna bleach my hair.”

That was another shit idea. They took the afternoon to steal two bleach boxes and a red dye for Taeyong and fried their hair in a public bathroom. Sicheng almost blinded himself with his head still in the sink when an old woman came in and left just as fast, screeching. When they came out, Taeyong's hair was a bright red once again, and Sicheng's was a cold blond. They invited Ten who judged them hardly, and a good part of the dreamies tagged along. The bathroom was really crowded by the end of the afternoon but they eventually exited and gathered the rest of the Jinju crew. Taeyong blew all the money on fixes from their usual seller and they all went to the karaoke bar they'd picked beforehand.

“Who's paying ?” Jaemin asked suspiciously.

“Me” Jaehyun laughed as they pushed the door.

They all flooded the place, taking the first room and promising to behave to the lady behind the counter who just carelessly let them in, probably only thinking about the money she would make out of fifteen people paying up by the end of the session.

They took all the most expensive courses and the dreamies sang for way too long, pumped the trips they'd gulped down with their beers. Johnny and Ten were being filthy in a corner of the room and a completely wasted Mark was kissing Haechan, both too engrossed in each other to realize how amateur they looked.

Sicheng bathed in the sight. For the night they were normal teenagers. He forgot the knife in his backpocket or Taeyong's blown out pupils or Chenle's grip on a bottle. He forgot about Doyoung's shadow, his empty sit on the couch and the lack of his laugh in the room. He forgot about Lucas' silence, how the broad and boisterous boy was nowhere in sight, leaving Yuta alone in the flirters area. He forgot about Jungwoo weird little noises, the way he would repeat someone's word or his impromptus sexy dances that always left everyone baffled. He forgot about them because they were gone, missed, hated and both.

Sicheng thought that it would have been impossible to have a friendship like that was it not for the hurdles and the addiction.

“The guys our age, they can't understand. They don't love each others the way we do.” Taeyong said over the music, sitting on Sicheng's laps and rocking his hips softly, not thinking about it yet.

“I don't think it's possible to have such bond without it.” Sicheng hummed.

“It's not possible to have something as nice as this.”

“I wouldn't give up on any of you for all the rehabs in the world. The people outside, they don't understand, you're right… They have shitty lives.”

Sicheng believed every word he said. It was not the first time he was witnessing it. This kind of friendship they had, it had nothing to do with the little chit chats other people had. A junkie's friendship was not just any friendship. Their own was the best, and when he thought about it, the best moment of his life happened in Jinju and with Taeyong. He couldn't recall what had repelled him in this endless towers. He only had good memories there. He kissed Taeyong's forehead lovingly, grounding the man he worshiped against his chest and looked around, the faces smiling, the youngers singing and dancing, the older following as festively.

_The best moment of my life is right now._

 

Sicheng made love to Taeyong – and he still believed it could be called that – in the karaoke's bathroom, locking the door and settling the smaller man on the edge of the sink. He rocked into his lover and murmured sweet words in his ears as Taeyong showered him in praises, chanting his name better than any word that came out of the other's singing voice. It didn't last long as they hadn't had the time to be that sexual in quite a while, but they warmed against each other, like storing as much warmth before going back to the cold of the street life.

“We can sleep here tonight...” Taeyong slurred, eyes closed, completely drained.

“We should make the boys sleep a bit” Sicheng agreed, stroking the other's cheeks fondly.

“You should clean me too...”

Sicheng nodded yes but leaned toward Taeyong and kissed him tentatively on the mouth. The older's lips were swollen from previous abuse but he kept kissing Sicheng nonetheless. There were handprints on the mirror when they exited the place.

Back inside the room, the speaker was still blaring some pop tune Sicheng did not know about, and half the place almost dead asleep. Taeil was watching them coming back like an owl, almighty and knowing.

No one came around for a while to check on them as the music was still loud and there was always someone up and a bit high to sing before falling back down to let someone else. Eventually, one of the employee opened the door and chased them out seeing they were zoning in. They all woke up as one as always when sleep was gone, violence spilled.

 

*

 

“Sir, we have a call from a karaoke bar. They are being jacked by a whole group of kids.”

“Is it our jurisdiction ?” the older cop asked, putting his cigarette back in his pants pocket, sighing heavily.

“Gangseo-gu sir ?”

“Then tell them to call a Gangseo-gu police station. Let's go have a drink, my treat.”

Everyone was cheering tiredly but the boy on the phone put it aside once again and said :

“One of them ties in with Johnny's description.”

“Johnny… Jungnang-gu Johnny ?”

“Yes sir. With Ten, and a younger that could be Mark.”

The older sat back down, taken aback, before suddenly standing up :

“Could Taeyong be of them ?”

“I'm asking right away sir” the trainee said before going back to the phone and hurriedly describing Taeyong.

All the remaining employees of the station had frozen as well, waiting for the older's command and trying to overhear what was going on over the phone. Only snippets could be heard, sometimes a yelp from the employee of the bar, sometimes foreign voices and threats such as “ _watcha gonna do now ? Watcha gonna do ?_ ”

“If we can catch this band of punks y'all better expect to be mutated to Gangnam with a medal on your chest so be ready.” the older said, grabbing his coat and standing next to the trainee.

“The employee says she saw a man get out with another, they asked for more drinks and for the bathroom so-”

“Cut the crap Jinil.”

“One of the two has a scar under his right eye.”

The commandant looked around before yelling orders. The whole station shook under the hundred of steps that just ran over the place. Every single one of them forgot about their little issues, the boredom of their life or how tired they were at this late hour of the night. Adrenaline pumped in their veins as they prepared for that great future awaiting them. They could catch NCT. They would catch NCT, tonight. Them, a little police station of Mapo-gu. They would make the front page and the headlines. They would be praised all around. No one could stand these kids anymore. Everyone wanted them gone, and they would be the one to do it.

As he got inside his car, siren chanting, all lights turned on and painting the area in screaming blue and red, the older thought that there was something sad in his job. He would catch NCT tonight, and he couldn't wait to get his hands on them and slap them each to bring some sense into their stupid heads. And yet he could only have a bittersweet taste. They were just kids. They were his son's age. They could be his 22 year old son. They could be his 15 year old daughter. He wondered where they'd lost there way. What pebble had side tracked the rails. He wondered if it was a long line of grit that had slowly pushed them in the wrong direction, or if a car had surged one day on their way and had thrown them all at once in the wall. He had no answers. Maybe that's why they'd side tracked.

 

*

 

“Run, run, run !”

Sicheng had heard this word over and over in the past half a year, but this time, their was a smile in Jaehyun's voice. There was a smile on his face as they spilled out of the karaoke bar and into the streets. Some people looked at them with curiosity, some laughed as well, because they saw a group of teens running and laughing and jumping. Maybe they envied them, and Sicheng thought that they could. The night was cold, and the sun was not any close to be there, but they couldn't feel it yet. Police sirens were not even heard that they were far away, disappearing in back alleys and underground subway mouths, just to meet back and hug tight as if they'd not seen each other in a while. They were all drunk, but for some of them it didn't change that much from the usual.

Sicheng decided to tag along with Mark because the younger was easy to hang out with and he was pleasantly buzzed without becoming a pain in the ass. Sicheng really liked Mark. He though in the middle of his hazed mind that the boy was a cool dude, reliable and thoughtful. Sicheng always truly believed that they would settled one day to make Mark audition for a rapping contest because he loved to rap over songs on the radio and everyone could actually hear him turn Haechan's shades into nice lines that would echo in Jinju's staircase.

They were making their way to the outside when I voice rang in the tilled hallways and the two froze :

“Hey you ! What the fuck are you doing here ?!”

Sicheng turned around in time to see and angry looking fucker fast-walking in their direction. Hopefully, the path was still crowded with the first salary-men of the morning and Sicheng just pushed Mark on instinct with his hip, blending him in the mass going left while he started running right. The prick ran after him, throwing slurs Sicheng didn't bother listening. He hoped Mark would call the others and tell them to get back to their work point as soon as possible and tried to find a way to lose his assailant. Sadly the guy was just on his tail. He wouldn't make it alone, or not in bright daylight in the middle of passers-by. He kept on running, pushing people aside and yelling for everyone to _move the fuck out_ and, after jumping over a fly of stairs, caught the crappy yellow sign of a public bathroom. He turned last second and bursted into the cramped place. It smelled awfully bad, a mixture of corporal sent, stagnant water and chemicals. He didn't have the time to catch his breath and turn around that the door banged open again, the prick on his heels looking at him like a mad-man :

“Who the fuck do you think you are to take our-” he started spiting but Sicheng caught the door and crashed it as hard as he could against the guy's side.

The man yelped and growled, holding his ribs a moment before jumping on Sicheng. They fell down on the wet floor and started handfighting, punching and pinching and biting, jaws tensed and looks vicious. Sicheng stomached two punches and felt all the air leaving his lungs. The guy above rose his hands probably about to strangle him. In a last attempt to get out, Sicheng spit the blood in his mouth right on the man's face, twisted his hips to make him lose his balance and threw his way a harsh uppercut right on the temple. The prick's eyes lost focus and he fell down like a heavy mass, hurting his head against the edge of the sink. His body made a loud and gruesome noise when it crashed on the tiles.

Sicheng tried to catch his breath back, inhaling as much as he could and wincing when the pain in his stomach woke up. His hands were trembling and he was feeling a bit light-headed from the blows. His nose was running in red and his joints where yellow-white. He grabbed the stainless steeled basin and got up on his wobbly legs. The world swayed a bit and nausea took him by surprise. He let go of the sink just to lean against the cubicle's door. That's when he realized said door was not wide open like all the others, but slightly ajar. He tried to push it tentatively, and even though it _was_ open, something was blocking it on the other side. He felt his heart race again, fearing that another prick was ambushed behind the door to finish him. He pushed harder, recognizing the thud of shoes blocking the way, so he tried harder again. The door gave in and opened on a long body lying on the ground. The boy it belonged to was slumped at the bottom of the cubicle, curled like a child around the toilet and the head and right arm against the dirty seat. He got closer as his vision was going in and out, threatening him with a black out, but his fear escalated when he crouched before the unmoving boy whose face was no longer of soft and kind features. Deep circles under purples eyes contrasted deeply with the yellowish tone of the skin. The kind smile was two chapped lips, dry and bloody from the cold and his cheeks were hollowed out. Sicheng didn't even let out a sob. He was petrified when he recognize Jungwoo, colder than the tiles and the needle still in his left arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.


	25. Chapter 25

****A hiccup left Sicheng's mouth and the sound echoed between the four walls. It opened the gates and panic poured out of Sicheng's mouth like a bad flood. He grabbed Jungwoo's inert arm and the older's head lolled. The Chinese boy balanced the other's body against his and held him tight against his heart. He squeezed Jungwoo's cold head right on his chest, his body broken in half as he crouched over the unmoving boy. Hiccups turned into sobs then into wails then into open mouthed silences as even his voice couldn't express his misery. He rocked Jungwoo against him, hiding his face in the crook of the older's neck and crying his eyes out. A lightning of lucidity striked him and he unantangled himself, dragging the body outside of the cubicle. He led the boy's head on his lap and tried to get the needle out of his arm. He coughed in disgust as the needle hardly exited the arm, leaving behind a messy whole soon filled with blood. He threw the syringe on the next cubicle as blood had totally clumped the way while drying. He covered Jungwoo's blue arm, marbled with dark veins and white scars. He had them everywhere, little circular points, some reddish, some completely healed, blossoming on his two arms and even on his hands.

He started looking around for something, anything, to bring the boy back.

“You're still there right… hyung… I'll bring you back...” he was babbling, half Chinese half Korean, feeling around with shaky hands like a newly blind man.

He found the plastic bag Jungwoo had carried with him non stop for months and finally opened it, digging in it and throwing out all the things he could find. There was a second spoon, a second lighter, crumpled paper from previous fixes and a garrote he didn't seem to have used in a while. Sicheng took the bag by the bottom and just emptied it. Bottles and medications fell on the tiled floor and he started rummaging through it. Valeron, Vallium 10 would have been useful for a wean, but in Jungwoo's present state, it was of no use. He threw it away with rage, tears feeling his eyes once again and he started screaming at all the pills that ricocheted on the ground as he spilled them.

“I'm sorry hyung… Help me ! HELP ME JUNGWOO WHAT SOULD I DO ?!”

He was about to fall down on the older's body and just give up all together when something caught his attention. Naloxone. He outstretched his hand and grabbed the little dark yellow bottle. He looked around but of course didn't find any clean needle. He put Jungwoo on the floor and dragged himself on all four to the left cubicle to retrieve the old needle back. He flushed the toilets a few time and tried to clean the needle. When he managed to activate the piston, he crawled back to Jungwoo, lifted his upper body against his chest so he had a better access to Jungwoo's arm. He let the older boy's head roll on his own shoulder as he plunged the needle in the naloxone, filling it before trying to sting Jungwoo. He tried to poke on his left arm, but Jungwoo being a righty, the patches of skin there were completely thrombosed already, too hardened by repeated abuses to let anything in anymore. He tried the right arm that was already attacked with several holes too, butchered the skin there and made a bloody mess. The hands were just as hard, and Sicheng was too new with these kind of drugs to know how to poke efficiently. All he knew was _on a vein_ and _never poking vertically, always on the side so it gets in better_. He finally settled for taking Jungwoo's shoes off. He had no socks, and his right feet was only sporting a single scar. Sicheng tried his luck there, forgetting the disgust he felt when the needle broke the skin with a little _pop_. He tried to remember how Jungwoo used to do with his shots, and decided on instinct that it is how he would do for naloxone as well. He sucked a bit of blood to mix it with the medication then emptied the needle in the vein before taking it out and letting it fall from his trembling hands. Then he curled around Jungwoo and started crying.

 

*

 

“Where is Sicheng ?”

Yuta turned back toward Taeyong and looked around, frowning :

“He left with Mark last time I saw him.” The Japanese man provided, lighting a cigarette and gathering Jeno and Haechan around him.

“Mark is here” A voice broke through the crowd, and Taeil emerged out of it with a tired looking Mark.

Taeyong felt his blood run cold. He got closer to the younger and just clutched his shoulders :

“Is Sicheng behind you ?”

“Far behind.”

“Prick on his tail ?” Kun asked from his sitting position on a concrete block.

Mark nodded yes. Taeyong passed his hand in his hair with febrility, feeling anxiety plague his judgment. He wet his lips over and over, worsening the burn on them, and was about to open his mouth to throw orders around when a different kind of sound rose from above their heads. The pricks' _Bang Bang Bang_ was to be heard even within the subway hallways. They froze for a moment, the feeling sinking in as they all recognized the battle chant :

\- JIYONG !

The panic that spread through them could not be compared to anything they'd done so far. They all scattered through the underground maze, cutting the group in smaller and smaller pieces as they escaped by different staircases or crowded elevators. Resurfacing was dangerous as they did not know how many cars were waiting for them above, and considering the waves the song was sending, they were plenty and unhappy.

“We need to get back to Jinju !” Taeil screamed to Taeyong as they stuck together.

“I need to find Sicheng !” Taeyong replied back in desperation.

Taeil sent him a panicked look before trying to grab his arm :

“It's too dangerous ! You need to get in a sub right now !”

“No !”

“We can't lose a leader Taeyong !”

They were running on a platform and the sub was emerging from the darkness above :

“I won't leave him here !”

“Your infatuation can't come in the way of the group !”

“It as nothing to do with that ! I don't leave people behind !”

“You are leaving everyone else behind if you stay here !”

Taeyong looked behind his back, made sure that they weren't followed and waited for the sub to slow down next to them and the doors to open to bodycheck Taeil inside of one of the wagon. The older yelped in surprised but caught Taeyong's sleeve, teleporting the two of them inside of the train. A woman yelled when they fell hard on the ground, but they didn't look up at her. They started pushing and pulling each others, one trying to ground and the other trying to escape :

“You can't give up on everyone like this !” Taeil growled, his usually kind eyes turned hard under the artificial light.

“I don't leave people behind hyung, and I would have done that for every single one of us.”

“It's Sicheng right” the older said, defeated, letting his head hit the ground with a thud, Taeyong struggling above him. “We are yours but you are his.”

The leader stopped moving and just looked at him for a moment, waiting for the train to slow down again, the next station already announced. He couldn't look at him anymore. He wouldn't have looked at himself at this moment. Because suddenly he understood Taeil. The lingering feelings he had, that he'd probably bear for too long, for the same man as Taeyong did. A love Sicheng would never reciprocate.

“I'm mine before I'm anyone else's.”

And he exited the wagon as soon as the door opened. Taeil didn't follow, finally undercover and broken in half.

 

*

 

“No… I don't know… he threw up… I don't know him...”

Sicheng was just outside the public bathroom and now that the sun was rising, he realized they were on the surface. He put his attention back into the task at hand, fiddling with the phone line as he was trying to communicate with the emmergencies over a public booth. People were throwing him curious glances when catching a glimpse of his emaciated face. He was dead tired, hungovered, soon to be in withdrawal and about to faint.

“We are… the train station… help us...” His voice was a raspy string of desperation, and he was to exhausted just breathing was a hurdle.

“ _Sir, we need for you to concentrate. Where is the victim ? Are they with you ?”_

“I… no… he's inside… I put him out of the… cubi… but not with me...”

“ _Sir, we will have to hang up if you cannot provide further explanations.”_

“He overdosed… he overdosed… hot shot...”

“ _What substance, when and where sir ?”_

“I don't know… where we are… I don't…”

“ _We cannot help you further sir. Could you describe the place or hand the phone to someone else ?”_

“Don't… don't hang up… He threw up… He's alive… You need to – to save him… Kim Jungwoo... do you know him ? Do you ?”

“ _Did you take any substances as well sir ?”_

“I… what… I…”

The phone found its place back on its stand, and before he could think about anything, he was pushing another coin inside and dialed another number. It didn't rang even once :

“ _Sicheng ?”_

“Mom...”

The voice at the other end of the line took a sharp intake of breathe before speaking louder out of sheer relief and worry :

“ _Sicheng is that you ?! Sicheng my baby ? My baby son where are you ? Are you safe baby ? Where are you I'll come pick you up !”_

“Mom...”

“ _Yes baby, whatever you want, tell me. I'll be there soon, please don't hung up okay sweetheart ? Don't hung up on me baby.”_

Sicheng could hear her trembling voice filled with tears.

“Mom...”

“ _Baby, i'm coming to Seoul. I'll be there for you ! It's over baby.”_

And she started hushing him soothingly, almost to lull him to sleep, repeating _it's over baby._

“Mom I think… one of my friend is dead...” he huffed out with a breathe, gesturing behind me as if she could see the restrooms on the other side of the street.

There was a little silence as fear sank in her :

“ _Oh my god baby where are you… Are you armed ? Where are you… my baby where are you ?...”_

“Mom… I love you...” he murmured against the phone.

There was half a silence again before her voice started again, with an alarm in her tone he had never heard. It was not the concern for a half dead friend it was the realization that she was losing him again :

“ _Sicheng, don't do anything okay ? I'll be there in no time. Just don't move baby… Mom loves you ! I love you so much baby so please don't move_.”

“I'll call you back… I swear...”

And he hung up on her wails. She would have to wait again, siting on the old couch of the house, the phone on her lapse, doing nothing else but wait for a son who'd long lost home's way.

He passed out on the ground at the feet of the booth, the phone hanging from it's curled line, the tonality silenced for good.

 

*

 

“Sicheng ? Sicheng ! Wake up Sicheng !”

Sicheng had a hard time opening his eyes. His lids were heavy and all puffed out. Above him, the blurred silhouette of Taeyong was sporting an expression of worry he couldn't miss despite his current poor eyesight.

“Hyung...” his voice cracked out, and he reach for the older with a wobbly hand.

Taeyong took it in his and he finally come to focus.

“We need to move away from here Sicheng. Jiyong was here with his men not that long ago.”

“Where are the others ?” he croaked as Taeyong tried to lift him to a sitting position before dragging him to his feet.

“Back to Jinju. Safe. Mark and Taeil are taking care of everything.”

“Casualties ?”

“You.”

The cold of the early morning couldn't bite hard enough to beat the warmth that spread within at the knowledge that everyone was fine. Everyone… Sicheng turned toward the public bathroom, but from where he was, he could clearly see that the path was clear, and the place empty. No convulsing Jungwoo, no fix bag, no trips, no needles scattered on the floor. Puke probably was all that was left, but from there he couldn't tell.

“He made it...” he murmured before hoisting himself up against Taeyong.

“Who ?”

Sicheng didn't answer and just tried to walk as straight as possible, or to at least look nothing but drunk so no one would call the cops. But he couldn't just rely on the older. He probably was tired as well and they both needed to find themselves a place to sleep in security. They were too far from Jinju to make it back, and from what Sicheng understood, the pricks were still around the subway and Taeyong didn't want to take the risk to lead them back to Jinju. The group was more important than them going back home.

But the sun was rising, and it would be difficult to hide in bright daylight. The sun was up today despite the cold, and no shadow seemed deep enough to swallow them safely.

“We could find a sauna...” Taeyong panted.

“I have nothing...” Sicheng replied bitterly, feeling wounded within for not being able to provide for his lover.

Considering Taeyong's contrite silence, he was dry broke as well. Sicheng had spent his last coins on the phone booth, but it wouldn't have been enough to get them into a sauna anyway, and their current state was too horrendous, they wouldn't have crossed the threshold.

“Let's find a car.” Sicheng slurred.

They found a big black car. It looked at bit like the SUV they'd stolen from Jiyong months ago. They got close to it and started keying it. Like what, they never learned.

“Must belong to some desk worker in the area.” Taeyong said while forcing the door.

They indeed where in the middle of a business district, with healthy on the go meal shops and high glass towers. The people around where just busily passing by, not even paying them the smallest attention, running from one appointment to one team lunch or something of the kind that adults liked to do for a living. Sicheng hated them with a burning passion because they were dumb. Like he had hated school droppers before, then thieves, then junkies, then knife holder, until he'd realized that being a school dropper or a thief or a junkie or a knife holder was not the issue. It was the people around doing stupid things and pretending it was the best thing to do. On the news they liked to say kids this day don't know what they are doing, don't know how to respect, how to provide for the next generation. But the grown ups, they kept pressuring everyone around like they'd been pressured before, they kept hurting youngers like they'd been hurt before. And so they ended up doing long ass stupid studies to do boring ass jobs and earn stupid money to engage in a shitty marriage that had nothing to do with a significant other and everything to do with how their family I wealthy and their parent's in-laws are politics and police representatives or lawyers and let's meet up with an attorney and a dentist. It was a game of pretend Sicheng didn't want to take part in. A junkie's friendship, there was nothing truer. Them junkie would not start talking to people only if they benefit their future in the company, or for a wedding.

When they closed the door behind them and the cold significantly reduced, Sicheng cuddled against Taeyong, and he looked at his lover. He was shivering in his jacket, face hidden by a hoodie raised to his nose. He eyed the older's face and thought that nothing would be prettier than this. No wedding nor job nor prestige. Taeyong was not looking at him, too tired to realize he was being watched, zoning out, tired puffed-out eyes and deep circles underneath, but he would always be a god among them, a sun burning brighter than a thousand globes.

“We look like nightskies” Taeyong murmured before sleeping, referring to their bruises.

Sicheng scouted closer to the older and closed his eyes, thinking that, if now they were canvas of deep yellow, red, purple and blue, later on, these same skins would birth stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- naloxon is a medicine used when people overdose of opium induced drugs, it stops the drug's action in the body and prevents the overdose. Naloxon is the french name, i don't know if it commercialized under a different one in other countries :/  
> \- thrombosis happens after several drug intakes with a needle : the skin hardens and it becomes difficult to poke oneself in this area, so usually the person starts poking on their dominant arm, then hands, thighs, feet etc.  
> \- also in french we say "le sang a caillé" when the blood cloggs the needle. idk how to say that in english sorry :')


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't have internet here so i don't upload as often ? But this chapter is longer, because i needed to fit the last part in it oops. Will beta later, Enjoy !  
> Love, Pony.

  1. They said the end was coming but the end was already there.



 

*

 

The End knocked on Sicheng's mother's door like a bad omen. It almost felt like a son gone to war to come back in a wooden box. She opened the front door to be met with four policemen in uniform, straightly sent from the capital itself, all high and mighty in their neat officer's shirts, but a bit out of context in the middle of the country. She just didn't collapse to the ground. She didn't tear out in a handkerchief, holding the personal belonging to her heart.

She stood in the threshold, guarding her house like a mythic lion and ready to preserve what little of Sicheng was left in this place.

She'd been through all the stage of hopelesness and terror, where every ring of the phone was a flash of hope to crush her right in the heart. Sometimes it had been Sicheng, but most of the time not. Passersby saying they'd seen her son somewhere here and there, some more trustworthy than other, but always a big question mark. Every rasp of Sicheng's voice over the line was both a relief and an unexplainable pain. No one would understand her, ever. How do you voice that you are tired, and that you want it over with ? She'd come to term with the fact that her son might be gone forever. It had been three months of roaming for him, just for her to realize that he'd lived this life for over half a year now. Half a year of digging deeper and deeper a whole he'd set foot in without a ladder to climb back up. Half a year to crumple and shrink and tear and lose what was left of him, the real him, to become this stranger who sometimes took her son's voice. Half a year to start stealing, to start drinking, to start smoking. To take drugs.

Each new revelation had been a lethal blow, and she didn't know how she was still alive after all the hurt and the pain she'd been through. So here she was, guarded before the entrance of her son's teenage-hood’s home, ready to bare her teeth :

“Is he dead ?” she asked, and the violence of the question took the four men aback.

“Is this Dong MeiLing's house ?” the middle one asked.

“Yes” she breathed out, a shadow of herself, wondering where MeiLing had gone, and if she was somewhere tucked with Sicheng's older self.

The man who'd talked took a step closer, gesturing that he wanted to enter the house to ask some questions. She didn't move.

“We would like to ask some questions about your son, Dong Sicheng.”

She didn't answer.

“We re-opened your son's case” another started. “seems like we linked him with a jewelry robbery near Gangnam-gu. We would like to know if you have any information that could help us find him.”

She stayed quiet and unmoving, and so they started looking at each other uncomfortably, wondering if she'd gone mad or if they'd made a mistake on the address. The smallest was about to open his mouth when she cut him, her voice like steal :

“It's been three months.”

“Madam… could we speak inside ple-”

“It's been three months !” she roared, throwing the door open in a loud bang, her long black hair flowing in the wind around her face like mad snakes. “I have reached countless police stations ! Left countless signs, pictures, phone numbers over Seoul and the road that leads back to Jeju ! I called you over and over, everywhere in this god forsaken country ! I told you that my son was gone missing ! Then I… I… I betrayed him ! I sold him in hope you'd find him back ! I told you he was a drug addict ! As well as a heavy drinker from all the information I collected ! I went to police stations after every news from people in Seoul seeing him over ! Roaming the streets, sleeping under bus stops ! High in the middle of the night ! I told you everything ! Every location he'd been seen to ! I went there, I looked for him ! I stuck more pictures and left little notes for him in addict-boxes* ! And what did you do ? You came up with more and more excuses ! Because he's legal he isn't worthy of help ? Because he's not within your station area he isn't worthy of help ? Because he is a junkie he isn't worthy of help ? This is _December_ 20 th ! I warned you the first week of _October_ !

“We are here to help madam-”

“No you aren't here to help. You didn't come all this way to help him ! You came to put him in jail and you'll have to put a poor boy in jail because you didn't even try to save him in the first place !

“There will be a trial before, to consider how much he-”

“ _You_ are responsible for his decline. _You_ made him like this. Now I don't want to see any of you before you bring my son back, unarmed and alive. And if you ever want me to cooperate with your stupid trial, fill your ridiculous administrative papers, don't show up like know-it-alls, demanding things you are in no right to receive. Now get the hell out of my front lawn.”

And she closed the door with rage.

 

*

 

The nightclub was crowded but at least it was warm inside. Taeyong was dozing off on Sicheng's shoulder, breathe even so the younger was sure he was alive. They had made a stop by the toilets half an hour ago to take their fix and it had completely buzzed the older. Sicheng had been a bit anxious, thinking their drug might have been adulterated, but in the end Taeyong took it well and started sleeping it through. It was nice that he could catch come rest, considering the hazardous week they'd had. The two had ran some little business for Key and so the cat-like man had let them in on one of his clubs. It was always better to be in a crowded smelly place in the middle of half drunk partying people than somewhere in the street, under the first snows and with nowhere to go.

Ten joined them, along with Mark and Haechan. Haechan had no business being here, but the Dreamies' leader had turned overprotective of his dongsaeng since Haechan had been out of juvie, and so the both of them were there tonight. Johnny was never far for the same reasons regarding Ten.

“It's getting harder to get in touch with you.” the oldest said to Sicheng.

“All the phones ran out of battery three weeks ago. Was a pain to find somewhere to plug them.”

“Give them to me” Mark said, handing his own phone out and extending his palm. “I'll charge them at Jinju, you can take ours in the mean time.”

“We can't stay without any news from you for so long.” Haechan added, a bit too tipsy to be sarcastic as he usually was.

They talked a bit longer about how the others were doing at Jinju, and Sicheng couldn't keep the longing from showing through his voice. And Ten, Mark and Haechan could hear it, but there was nothing to do to change that. An hour later, Taeyong woke up for his next fix, so they left Haechan near the bar and all went to the toilets. The men's door was tagged with a roman capital H, and it didn't stand for _H_ _omme_ or _Herr_.

It's only on those rare moments when they were not wearing big hoodies and jackets, but the t-shirts they wore underneath, that they could realize how skinny they'd gotten. Ten had never been the big bone type, just like Taeyong, but his arms were sticking out of the sleeves like dry sticks. Sicheng never look at his reflection, as everytime he came around a mirror, all he could see was depressing.

“It's because we only see ourselves from public or club's bathrooms. It's the artificial light. We are not that bad once outside.” Mark said while splashing his yellowish face with water.

His skin was constantly of this sick color, his eyes were tired, small above the dark circles he sported like every one of them.

“Annnnd” Ten started sneering, peering closer to the mirror “my skin is breaking.”

They all laughed, because Mark had stopped wondering if his skin was breaking, between teenagehood and poor hygiene, but Ten was still constantly complaining about it. It's true that he'd always had a perfect skin, unblemished and glowing, but the street life was wearing all of them thin, and no one was spared. Sicheng didn't look up, committing to memories the face he'd had when they were at Jeju. Taeyong was also looking minutely at his fix and making sure he was not messing anything. Mark was also minding his own business, taking his trip then a bit of a fix Sicheng shared with him. He'd slowly started taking drugs rather than alcohol, almost as if to affirm himself as a grown up and not as a Dreamy anymore. Alcohol is for the minors. They never mentioned it.

They came back to the club were the heat crawled on them, unstandable against their hypersensitive skins, and easily spotted Haechan. He was defensively holding his ground against another group of younglings his age, all boisterous with their higher number, bottle in hand. Taeyong showed up and they all stood behind Haechan. The group retreated when they saw they were older and exiled themselves on another end of the room.

“What did these bitches want ?” Mark asked, putting an arm around Haechan's shoulders.

“The booth.” he replied, sipping on his drink.

“Well it's our booth.” Ten snapped, sitting heavily on the leather couch.

“Courtesy of Almighty Key.” Sicheng added.

They didn't know why they were bragging like this when the opponents were gone. Maybe because they had nothing else for themselves and they wanted to feel better than this miserable kids who were like them.

Mirrors.

Sicheng spent the little time he spent in clubs hating on these kind of kids. They were younger than him, but some of them his age, and he couldn't help but look down on them.

“Look at them going, what a band of bastards.” Mark commented, racking his blunt nails against the black table.

They all hummed in approval.

“Give them a month or two, and they are like us.” Taeyong said.

“Yep, younglings these days are just dumber and dumber.”

“Ah, I can't even look at them.”

“Can't they all just come back to their mother's house. What the fuck with them.”

“Yeah, what the fuck.”

And under all this hatred toward the others, was lying the hatred toward themselves.

Sicheng had not wanted to admit it back then, but now that he was in this police station, he could realize how insincere and dishonest with himself he'd been all this time. It is not other kids that they hated, it was themselves. They hated drunkards and they hated junkies, they hated to see people do the same as them. It was like witnessing their own failure. They hated the others who were not as low as them because it made these kids had a chance to get out of it. The Jinju crew didn't want to believe that other people were in the same situation as them. They didn't want to believe that there were other places in Seoul, in Korea, in Asia, were kids ditch classes and family and safe home to live outside. They wanted to believe the others were nothing but a bunch of spoiled rich cunts born with a golden spoon and having fun during ungodly parties by taking trips and drugs.

They were not the only sad kids in Seoul. It's just that, for the time being, they were the saddest.

 

*

 

“Where are you going Sicheng ?”

Sicheng was beaming under Taeyong's concern, but he freed his arm from the older's hold.

“I need to walk a bit, maybe go to the toilets. Want me to bring something to drink ?”

They all cheered and Sicheng easily left the table after Johnny – who'd joined them and was now carrying on his lapse a sleeping Ten – told them that they'd all take beers.

He made his way to the counter and asked for Baekhyun. The bartender turned toward him, taking his command, then eying him suspiciously when Sicheng retrieved the trail without paying :

“Yah Winwin bastard !”

“Key's treat” Sicheng stuck his tongue out.

“Of couuurse.” Baekhyun snore, holding the trail harder, his eyeliner giving him an older look but his voice betraying him.

Sicheng perched himself above the counter and screamed in the older's ear :

“Kibum wouldn't appreciate.”

“Let him go Baekkie. He didn't lie” came a second voice, and Sicheng recognized Minho's slight lisping.

The older man was broader and as tall as Sicheng, and Baekhyun turned on his heels, pouting like a child.

“Thanks” Sicheng said, taking the trail.

“Don't thank me.” the other said sternly, and he took a little bottle from the pocket of his jeans.

He placed it on the counter, just next to the trail :

“I would like someone out of my club. I don't want of Jiyong's around.”

Sicheng frowned but looked closer at the bottle, and when he recognized it, he put it in his own pocket at light speed. Minho was already gone, and so he took it as a cue to get in the move. It was the naloxone he'd given Jungwoo.

_Lucas._

He left the trail on the counter and started searching the place with his eyes, trying not to be too obvious to his group. They couldn't know he'd seen Jungwoo, or else they would ask questions about Lucas, and Sicheng would not let the poor boy become a toy to reach the traitor. He spotted Mark, Ten, Haechan, Taeyong and Johnny engrossed in a conversation, so he made his way toward the men's bathroom.

“Lucas !” He screamed over the booming of the music. “Lucas !”

He opened all the cubicles, and when he found no Lucas, barged in the girl's bathroom. A few screams, mostly party-goers fixing there forever ruined makeup, and one or two girls he knew in the blink of an eye were fixers. But no Lucas. Sicheng tried his luck on the second floor but the place was too crowded for a discussion, and he decided that if Lucas had risked as much as going in one of SHINee's clubs to reach him, even asking Choi Minho, then he didn't come to punch him square in the face. Maybe he wanted to thank Sicheng for saving Jungwoo. Sicheng had no idea, but he liked to dream a bit about it.

Sicheng took the stairs leading to the surface and regretted immediately not having taken his jacket. He shivered in his hoodie, pushing the hood low on his forehead to break the icy wind. Rain had started falling in droplets so thin they couldn't be avoided, flying easily with the breeze and cutting like knives. He looked around the parking lot, searching for an isolated silhouette but found no one. He decided to circle the place, and if no one was to be found, he would go back and maybe report it to Taeyong. He would have to find a way to say it all without putting Jungwoo in any danger. Sicheng was thinking about it when a voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Sicheng”

he walked slower, wondering if the wind was playing tricks with his ears.

“Sicheng !”

He stopped, trying to get were the voice was coming from.

“On your left.”

Sicheng turned his head, his vision too blinded by the hood to just try to peer without moving. It was of no use anyway, as Lucas had spotted him. The boy was shielded under a building's entrance, bomber jacket and hood on. They looked really alike, Sicheng thought, both in their ragged jeans and too thin clothes, tired faces and greasy hair. Two Chinese boys far from home. But Sicheng's blood started to boil. He couldn't let his emotions and his past affection for Lucas get in the way. So he thought about Doyoung as he walked the length of parking. He thought about the police's raid. He thought about Taeyong's terror when Jiyong's very name was mentioned. He thought about Ten and Haechan put in jail. He thought about Jungwoo. Then he looked at the boy's face, wane and scared under the white neon light. He crossed the street, hopped on the sidewalk and in two steps, landed his fist right on Lucas' jaw. He didn't talk, and crushed Lucas' chin with an uppercut before the other could say another word. He wouldn't let this mouth speak ever again. This mouth which had hurt them so much, with fancy words and friendly laughs. He would break every single teeth, pop them out with his nails if he had too, he would hurt so bad that Lucas would never be able to use it again, mute until the day he dies. So he punched again, and after the third blow, Lucas retaliated. The hit landed right between Sicheng's ribs and the air got knocked out of his lungs :

“Listen to me !” The snitch pleaded, spitting blood, tongue heavy.

“Shut up.” Sicheng replied, his voice even contrasting with his violent body.

“No !” he yelped, avoiding another kick and elbowing Sicheng in the shoulder, efficiently pushing him back without hurting him. “You don't understand !”

“No I don't.”

“Please let me explain !”

Sicheng went straight for the throat to block his windpipe.

“Is it what you said to Taeyong ? Is it how you tried to crawl back to us ?”

Lucas' pained face was incredibly realistic. There were tears in his eyes and tremblings in his big hands.

“Is it with this same lamb-like face that you pulled the trigger ?”

And with that, Lucas features just dropped. The act was gone, and his anger was real. Rage boiled between the two men, shielded from the rest of the street by the heavy rain pouring down. They went nasty, hitting, hurting and pulling what they could get, like a real street fight and without any sense of honor. Wherever it lands, it wins. There was no pity for the opponent on the floor, and so they soon started rolling on the wet tilled floor, screaming and howling, growling and groaning at every bad blow. They fought around so hard that when Lucas pushed Sicheng from the secluded building entrance, they ended up hollering on the sidewalk and under the downpour. It was harder to fight efficiently under the rain which made their movements slower and sloppier, the knuckles slipping on wet skin and not punching as hard. It was becoming difficult to just lift a hand, Sicheng realized, as the water drenched their clothes, turning them into heavy armors. But the skin underneath was dead cold and each blow was the promise of a new bruise to come.

In the end, Lucas had not been refused in the Dreamies for nothing. He caught Sicheng in a skull-breaking headlock and shook him around a few time before throwing him on the floor. When he straddled the older, Sicheng believed his time had come, but his head hurt too much for him to completely realize what was going on. Lucas bent forward, his nose almost touching the other's. Sicheng bared his teeth in a last attempt to not surrender, but Lucas voice toned above him like the thunder :

“We need to take Jiyong down !”

Sicheng watched him unmoved. Lucas tried again.

“I know how to take Jiyong down !

Sicheng stayed silent, so Lucas dragged him under the building entrance where they rested protected from the rain.

“It's the only way to save Jungwoo-hyung !”

And it's as if someone had clapped their hands right above Sicheng's head, dissolving the numbing fog before his eyes. His senses came back to him, and he let go of Lucas' collar, his head slowly going back down on the floor.

“I don't know where the money is.” Lucas said and there was a sob in his voice.

After all he really was nothing but big child.

“I don't know who… kill Doyoung-hyung.”

Sicheng looked pointedly at the ceiling.

“I have never seen this Jiyong.”

There were tears in Lucas eyes, unshed for it is not what was paining him the most.

“I tried to talk to Taeyong-hyung, but he didn't believe me. Please gege, please… It's the only way to save Jungwoo-hyung… Please listen to me...”

It was not Lucas' drugs they found in Jinju. It was not Lucas who'd been somewhere in the wild before joining Jinju. It was not Lucas who'd been involved in the heroine market before the crew did.

Lucas saw in Sicheng's eyes that the older understood, but even there, it only scared Lucas more. Sicheng understood that Lucas had known something all along. Snitch.

“Stop thinking” Lucas blurted out. “It's me. It's me.”

It had never been Lucas and his soft eyes. It had been Lucas and his guilty stares, his absences and his shaking hands. It had been Lucas knowing all along but so infatuated he'd stayed _quiet_. It had been Lucas so desperate he'd held with all his strength, going to bed with a heavy heart and waking up with burdened lips.

Sicheng remembered all of a sudden how Lucas had been clingy, wary. How he was always so _caring_ , so _preoccupied._ How he intertwined his fingers with _him_ trying to anchor _them_. And he couldn't find the will to blame Lucas. Lucas had refused to doom _him,_ for staying silent was keeping _him_ by his side, and every passing day had just made the truth harder to spill, turning him equally guilty.

“Where is Jungwoo, Lucas...” Sicheng breathed out, everything falling into place.

“Leave him out of it.”

“Then bring me the real snitch.”

“He's here.” the softest voice of them all said.

Jungwoo appeared from the curtain of rain, drenched but calm, looking at Lucas with tender eyes, hollowed out but alert. _The fight is over_ , he seemed to say. Lucas had done what they knew how to do best. He had kept quiet, the last chance to protect a boy he knew he wouldn't save.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *addict boxes : I assumed that there were things like this in Korea since there are in France and that it was useful to the plot ha. This boxes are like mail boxes or public condoms machine, but they deliver either garotes, clean needles or spoons, and it usually comes along an empty box to throw the dirty needles. This way there are no dangerous needles with infected blood around public areas and junkies are less likely to carry disease. Most of the time, family members of addict people leave notes, little words and addresses for the addict one to find them, come back and just get news. Since addicts are most of the time in rupture with their family and don't say where they are it's the easiest way for the family to keep on sending messages to their relative. Here, MeiLing leaves notes in this boxes in hope that Sicheng reads one of them.  
> Love, Pony.


	27. Chapter 27

It had taken the rest of the night and a good part of the morning for Lucas to talk Sicheng through. They had taken a motel and Sicheng had texted Taeyong saying something had happened and that he would come back probably around 8am. Taeyong had flooded him with messages, so he'd turned all his phones down. Lucas had let Jungwoo before the television and the oldest was sitting on the crappy couch with his knees to his chest. The two younger had settled on the chairs, talking in Chinese. Words of worry and of pure hopelessness, that Jungwoo himself could probably understand. _Every minute of every hour I'm scared. I can't let him out of my sight anymore._

“He doesn't want to go on anymore. And… we love each other… we do...” Lucas' eyes had filled with tears again, for he was not Lucas anymore.

In the artificial light of the old bedside lamp, he was no one but Wong Yukhei, 19, drugged, thief.

“But he's drifting away. From me, from everything. There are moments where he's so far gone… I just can't stand it. So I just give him the money and he buys himself a fix.”

Jungwoo had nowhere to go but he would leave again, like all of them. They couldn't belong anywhere anymore. They never ever would.

“You want to sell us.” Sicheng had finally said after hours of listening, or staying there in silence.

His voice was hoarse, but he didn't have it in him to just cough a bit. He took Lucas' cigarette butts and lit them, smoking on cold tobacco and waiting for the night to end.

“I want to save us.”

Sicheng was looking at him with a cryptic look on his face.

“I had not realized before. Or maybe it just got worse.” Lucas said, putting his pack on the coffee table between them for Sicheng to take a decent one. “You talk less and less.”

Sicheng thought he just had nothing to say, and even that was not worthy of saying. So he said nothing and looked through the window.

“What I said...” Lucas murmured, before putting his elbows on his knees, bending forward. “Gege. We need to do it.”

“Do what.”

“Turn ourselves in. It's the only way for Jungwoo to get to rehab. They won't take him if he's taken in a raid. They'll just throw him in jail and let him wean by himself. It will kill him.”

“Why us too ?”

Lucas sighed, agitated, and got up like a jack in a box, running his hand in his hair, but sitting down when Jungwoo threw him a glance on the other side of the room. The older slipped from the couch like a ghost and disappeared in the bathroom :

“Leave the door open hyung !” Lucas called in Korean before reporting his attention toward Sicheng.

“We would have done it on our own but… You are family. NCT is family. We are brothers. We stick together. We don't leave people behind.”

“They won't take us in.” Sicheng said in a low, resigned voice.

“They won't because you don't want to. You don't want to get better Sicheng. Look at yourself ! Look at Taeyong ! Look at your people ! They won't get any better. We need to do something. We need to get out of the streets. We need to start living.”

Sicheng opened his mouth slightly before closing it again. He blinked, blocking Lucas' words out.

“You don't want to because you don't want to trust the police.”

“We can't trust them.”

"There's no other way gege. To save Jeno, Haechan, Mark, Chenle, Jisung… It doesn't have to be all of us gathering before a police post for god sake ! It can just be the four of us, hyung, Taeyong hyung, you and me. Just the four of us, we can save the thirteen of them.”

“They'll arrest us.”

“Not if we get social workers on our side.”

“We are not a charity party.”

“You bet we are.” Lucas spat.

Sicheng eyed him through his lashes, still curled on his chair. Lucas sighed again, covered his face in his big hands and took a deep breath.

“That's my last card gege.”

Sicheng rose an eyebrow.

“The pricks. Jiyong's. They're on Jinju's doorstep. They know where we are. They know where we are and they'll get us down before the end of the week. We are done for. Cops will cooperate with us if we can help them break the pricks. It's all in their interest. They get to have us within arm length – for the time being - and they can down Jiyong for good. He's been plaguing their town for too long.”

“It's leading them to Jinju.”

“Jinju is doomed anyway if we don't do anything. What would you like better, the cops or Jiyong ? The cops evacuating once it's done or Jiyong planting his banner on top of the highest tower like the bastard he is ? Jiyong is your home Sicheng. In the entrance and the staircase and every rooms or every floors. Think about Taeyong.”

Sicheng remained silent, and they both knew that silence equals acceptance.

“I don't care what you do after that Sicheng. I'm not asking you to turn yourself in forever and follow us in rehab. I'm asking you to be the key to open a door. After that it's up to you. I won't force you to stay with the cops.”

“I won't stay.”

Lucas looked at him, and something in his eyes looked like longing. Different than the longing he had for Jungwoo, or the one he had when talking about rehab. It was a sadness born for a friend who Lucas knew wouldn't stay.

“Gege...” he started, suddenly uncomfortable, lowering his eyes and looking at his feet.

His voice was odd, as if the tears, instead of leaking out, were just clogging his vocal cords.

“We can make it out. We can turn things better. And… maybe… maybe it would be better for you if you _would_ follow us. If you… shit...”

Lucas blinked furiously a few time, then looked at the ceiling, his nose red and his eyes shiny. Sicheng held his lips tightly sealed, immensely sad as well, but unable to voice it. If he was to open his mouth, tears would flood as well, a hiccup, a sob, anything, and he would crumble again.

“I can't” he still said, in a whisper for his voice had gone away.

“Please talk to Taeyong. Convince him gege… We can't save everyone but we have to try.

Sicheng left the motel around nine in the morning. The sun still wasn't up, and so he sat under a bus stop and started to cry.


	28. Chapter 28

“Someone else overdosed”

“Why are they talking about it. People overdose all the time.”

“It was a suicide. Took the hot shot with heroine. They found the body in Gangnam-gu's train station.”

“This bastard chose the nicest toilets of the area.”

A concert of approval rose from the group, none really paying attention, none really caring.

“Still doesn't get why they are talking about it.”

“Dude left a note. It's the kind of drama they like to display on newspapers.”

“I don't understand why people are killing themselves over drugs. I mean, as long as there's something to take, I don't know why I'd fuck myself on it.”

Heroine had hit Seoul like a bomb, and Onew's shop was no different. The conversations over the tables had changed with the passing time, but so had Sicheng, and thus he'd never really realized.

“What can I get you, and don't ask for the toilets. They are closed.”

Sicheng looked up toward Kyungsoo, the short man holding a pen but no notes, looking at him with his signature frown.

“I don't take H.”

“I don't care.”

“I don't want anything.”

“Then get the hell out of my establishment.”

Sicheng lowered his eyes, pensive, but Onew appeared in the room and stopped next to his colleague :

“Long time no see Sicheng.”

The Chinese boy nodded his head, glancing at the other through his lashes, head still low.

“Don't become defiant of the people on your side. Don't seclude yourself.”

The older was talking to Sicheng, but the youngest understood that this speech had once been for Kyungsoo, and Onew was just taking this moment as a cue to remind the both of them.

“I'm waiting for Taeyong-hyung.” Sicheng croaked finally, and SHINee's leader nodded as well.

“So he's still alive too.”

“We have to talk.”

“Do you want to take the back room ?”

Sicheng said no with his head, looking at his joint hands over the table.

“I need a place where he can't make a scene.”

“Make sure he _doesn't_ indeed” Kyungsoo said before gesturing goodbye to his dongsaeng and leaving for the kitchen.

“What are you up to Sicheng ?” Onew asked when the counter closed back behind Kyungsoo.

Sicheng didn't reply, he just shrugged, absent minded, and waited for the oldest to leave with a sigh, patting the youngest' shoulder on his way. The door opened on Taeyong silhouette and the boy scanned the room before finding his lover. He dodged the tables and the customers going before stopping before Sicheng. Taeyong had a beanie on his head, so Sicheng assumed he'd found some interesting things wherever he was for the rest of the night. And he was half expecting Taeyong fisting his hands in his collar, efficiently lifting him from his chair, teeth bared.

“What's wrong with you ?” he growled lowly, to which Sicheng replied by a non-commital glance. “Don't look at me like this after disappearing for the best part of the night you shithead.”

Sicheng felt for the chair with his left hand, probably about a centimeter under his levitating ass, and patted the table with the other to signal Taeyong to take a seat. He pushed his glass of water when the older let go of him, but Taeyong pushed the glass away, almost knocking it off. Kyungsoo would have screamed, Sicheng thought foreignly. But it was not the point. Sicheng stil didn't know how to put things out for Taeyong to listen. He had listened because he was caught in the crossfire, and because he'd hoped to know more about Jungwoo's whereabout. Saying _I've seen Lucas_ would be an efficient way to capture Taeyong's attention, but would for sure trigger more questions than Sicheng was ready to answer. Sicheng had become so bad with answers.

“Do you trust me ?” he finally opted for, because he knew he was about to be untrustworthy. Taeyong just didn't have to know.

Taeyong stopped squirming in his seat and looked for a very long moment into Sicheng's eyes. But Sicheng was older now, and the doe eyes would not breach his walls as they did months ago. Taeyong slowly nodded yes with his head, not breaking eye contact.

“The pricks are around Jinju.”

The air caught in Taeyong's lungs, and his eyes widened. Sicheng could almost tell the electricity that ran through the other's body, how the tension rose between them, so thick he would have cut it with his switchblade. But he didn't let his hyung speak up :

“They are around and they will strike before the end of the week. And we can't take them down alone.”

“Of course we can.”

“Not if they fight us around home Taeyong.”

“This is _our_ war Sicheng.”

“And the war will win. The war will win hyung. Not us.”

Taeyong swallowed, sitting deeper in his chair, back against the wooden rest :

“Who told you that. What if it's a trap.”

“Key. I trust his information, and so do you. I don't know why it could change now.”

“Key's a bad luck cat.”

“Yeah, doesn't make him a liar. You don't grow as old as he did by shitting people in every corner.”

Taeyong looked at him with venom, but Sicheng didn't retaliate because he knew he wasn't the target of his lover's hatred :

“Don't become one.”

“I thought you trusted me.”

Taeyong bite his lip, the turmoil in his head visible on the lines on his face. The shadows around his eyes seemed deeper, his joints whiter. Things had gotten so much harder, they didn't know how to stop.

“I don't understand what you want to do” Taeyong said, exactly because he knew what Sicheng was about to say.

“The cops.”

“No.”

“There's no other way.”

“We don't need them. We can get the job done by ourselves.”

Sicheng didn't say anything, because he thought the same. But it was not his words in his mouth. It was Lucas', even if he couldn't say it.

“We thought we could yes. I remember that. Doyoung too thought he could get the job done.”

the skin around Taeyong's mouth tightened, his jaw tensed, cheekbones prominent under the aggressive light.

“That's a low blow.”

“Life's a low blow.”

“I'm not getting the cops near Jinju.”

“Do as you wish.” Sicheng said, sighing heavily as he got up, putting his fingerless gloves back on “I'm taking the Dreamies and whoever follows. I'm not leaving anyone in this god forsaken place.”

Taeyong got up at light speed and followed Sicheng, grabbing his arm as the younger was crossing the threshold, the cold winter wind prickling at his face like pins and needles.

“This is home Cheng...” the older said, and his voice was strangled despite his furrowed eyebrows.

“This is just a tower...” he replied helplessly.

And god knows it cost him to say that.

 

*

 

For their last night before turning themselves in, Taeyong and Sicheng slept in a sauna. It was the nicest place they'd slept in for weeks, and the warm, humid atmosphere of the establishment lulled them easily. The hardest was not to get caught, but they figured that soon it wouldn't matter. They would contact the police station Taeyong had chosen – Lee Sooman's – and give their terms : kicking the pricks against NCT's cooperation and Jinju's location. It was fairly too much, the two boys thought, but they had nothing else for themselves.

“Did you call your mom ?” Taeyong asked, changing position on his warm bench, his head on Sicheng's chest.

“I'll do it after it's all settled.”

It seemed to content Taeyong, because the older dropped a kiss on Sicheng's hot skin, raising goosebumps there, and Sicheng dug his fingers harder in the other's bare hips.

“Did you warn everyone ?”

“Yes.”

“You sure ?”

“I texted everyone on every phones.”

“When ?”

“Just after the storm hyung ! We were under the bridge together, you saw me so don't stress me out like this.”

“Ah… what the fuck.” Taeyong complained as well, turning his back to Sicheng even though he was practically lying on the younger. “How much do we still owe them ?”

“I don't know… thousands… Why ?”

“I want to know how much we are saving by sending their asses in jail.”

There was something boiling in Taeyong's body, ugly and curling on his tongue, too big for him to swallow and too evil to conceal. It was pure meanness, born from true hatred, and a real sense of satisfaction over crossing them from the map. Sicheng felt the same, but because he didn't voice it, he could contemplate the sensation on Taeyong's words, and he realized that sinking lower was a never-ending journey.

 

*

 

“ _Had a nice fuck I hope, we might be a bit busy for the next days.”_

Taeyong had snickered at that when he'd had Ten over the phone. It was the morning, they'd slept as well as people like them could : in bits and bouts, waking up over the night to count their little belongings and remember where they are, before drifting back again. The leader had decided to call Ten, deciding it would make them feel less guilty to break in the hairsalon without his approval.

They had not been there in months, and when Sicheng set a foot on the dusty tilled floor, he felt a rush of nostalgia rolling over him. It had been so long, and so much happened, that they both felt like this place belonged to a different lifetime. They could have been there a decade ago. So they walked slowly, holding their breath and unwilling to disturb the religious silence of the place. Sicheng had loved his place like no others after Jinju. It's were everything had begun, the friendship of a lifetime, the love even, as it seemed.

“It's too cold to go on the rooftop.” Taeyong said, looking at the back door leading to the roof.

He looked back at Sicheng, and they ended up on the rooftop anyway. The shading veil had collapsed under the weigh of the snow, and the two beer bottles left had filled with rain. They pushed the snow and got rid of the veil to seat on the frozen cushions. In just the blink of an eye, it was summer again, and the sun was warming their red-cold cheeks, and Taeyong was falling asleep on Sicheng's shoulder, and Sicheng didn't understand where the bruises were coming from, and the radio was playing _Dust in the wind_ over their heads.

They'd planned their route, and the phone booths they would use to reach Sooman, and they were currently charging their non-traceable phone to reach each others as they would call from two different booths.

“How do we escape _after_ ?” Taeyong asked.

“In the middle of the mess.”

“What if they keep us at the station.”

“Make it a term. We want to be there.”

Taeyong wrote it down on a crappy, torn and yellow piece of paper from a bloc they'd found in a different sauna about a month and a half ago. He wrote his line with a dwarf of a pencil, so small the older had troubles holding it properly. The wind blew some more and they scurried against each others, their noses deep in their jackets, still too thin to warm them but enough to block the biting air out. They spent some times there, then they moved back to the hairsalon, watching people outside through the slides. They didn't put the radio, they didn't talk. They stayed there in religious silence, rubbing their faces against one another, not so much for the warmth but for the contact.

Sicheng could feel all his members buzzing with apprehension, stomach making knots and his head thrumming with scenarios. He held tightly onto Taeyong's hand and the older held back. For this time, Sicheng made himself as little as possible and closed his eyes against Taeyong's chest, just like a child before his hyung.

They waited for the storm to stop. After that, they had no more reasons to back off.

 

 

The phone rang in Sooman's police station, like every other half hour here in Seoul. But when the shaking voice echoed through the line, the whole place froze.

“ _I'm Sicheng. My name is Sicheng.”_


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This place's about to b l o w

“ _My name is Sicheng. I want to talk to Lee Sooman.”_

The bomb that fell on the station after this moment of incredulous silence was unexplainable. Orders fired all around in ushered whispers, trying to direct everyone without being over-heard. Rolling desk chairs creaked against the floor, phones got picked up, files were moved out of the way and trainees started running in all directions to bring the news.

“ _I want to talk to Lee Sooman”_ the croaked voice repeated.

“Talk to him !” whispered angrily an older to the man who'd picked up, his young face drained of all blood. “Don't let him hang out !”

“What do I say ?” replied the younger with sheer panic in his eyes.

“ _I just want to talk to Lee Sooman.”_ the boy repeated, his voice lost under a vicious blow of the wind.

“Sir, could you confirm your identity ?” the young man said, and the station held its breath, waiting for the tonality to ring and the silence to rise.

There was indeed a silence, but the voice rose again :

“ _I'd like to talk to Lee Sooman.”_

“Sir, this is officer Kyunghyun. We will establish contact with the commandant in an instant. Would you mind telling us your issue and we will report it to him as quickly as possible.”

“ _I'll hang up.”_ said the voice, threat hanging in the air like a sword.

“Don't, don't !” the officer took the phone from the younger's hands and put the phone on speaker for the whole station to hear. “Sicheng ? Dong Sicheng right ?”

Sicheng didn't reply, but his breath could be heard, mangled with the honking of the cars behind him and the wind still merciless.

“My boy” the officer tried again, tone paternal, trying to win as much time as possible.

On the desk on his right, three women were trying to reach Sooman who'd regained his house the night before.

“Sir, this is an emergency” one of them squealed when she managed to get him.

“We have reached Commandant Sooman, Sicheng. Are you still with us ?” the officer quickly provided, sweat bedding on his forehead.

The boy probably nodded yes because no voice could be heard but the line didn't end.

“Find his position !” other voices were commanding all around

“Follow the call's identification and tell us were he is !”

“Sir, this is a public number, he is calling from a phone booth.”

“Then find where the damn phone booth is ! It's not like he's going to run away with it !”

Tension was building so hard that people started snapping at each others, messing numbers around and losing their temper.

“Find the booth and close the freaking district off.”

“Call the mother, make it a pressure point if we have to.”

Another phone started ranging, making the trainee jump on his desk. His eyes bulged out and he started stuttering, pointing his phone with his finger :

“Cut the line you idiot !” another officer roared in whisper, his face red with the effort.

“ _Pick it up !”_ Lee Sooman's voice warned over another phone. “ _Pick it up for god's sake.”_

The trainee picked up the phone and everyone reported their attention on Sicheng whose line was connected with Sooman's, until the trainee jumped from his chair, the phone clutched against his chest :

“Lee Taeyong on line 3 ! Lee Taeyong… line 3...”

“ _We have terms.”_ the two voices said over different lines.

The station could as well have collapsed.

 

*

 

They didn't have a chance to escape, but they didn't mean to. Sicheng had waited next to the booth, and quickly after they started negotiating the terms, sirens could be heard. The block was being shut down, a police's demonstration of force way too consequent considering Sicheng's skinny shape. But he had nothing to lose and it scared them.

“ _Sicheng boy. We agree on these terms. But you need to agree on your side as well.”_

“For Taeyong.”

“ _Taeyong is being listened to as well. By me. And you both heard. I'll respect my part if you respect yours.”_

Sicheng heard Taeyong agree for the both of them, and so he remained silent on his side. Talking was exhausting, and he had troubles voicing words, having to cough every now and then. He lighted himself a cigarette with his shaking hands, fingers purple with cold. He took a few blow, shielding it with his hands. He took deep breathes as well and let the phone perched on his shoulder, the amount of clothes on him so high the phone had no trouble resting there. He vouched against the booth, eyes lost, unfocused as he cleared his head out and blocked the screaming sirens. He held onto his hood and hid his face in a last attempt to disappear.

For the boys. For his brothers. For Jinju.

He traveled in a secured car with two policemen next to him talking as if he wasn't there :

“We can't trust people like them. What is going through Lee Sooman's head ?”

“They talked about kids street working.”

“And so ? It's out of our juridiction. Didn't it happen on other districts ?”

“Ah this asshole. And so what ? They could be your kids, have you no shame ?”

“They have no shame being pains in our ass. They go around looking for it. Look at- what the- hey you.”

Sicheng's eyes flicked to the man who was now obviously talking to him, but he didn't move, his hands cuffed and warming between his thighs, his head firmly hiding between his raised shoulders.

“Get your hood off ! Pay some respect to the elders.”

Sicheng bite back a whimper when a hand yanked the hood off his head, he only shrink further on himself. It was weird, being somewhere without a hood on. He'd lived and slept with it almost every day and every night for months. Having it pulled of and exposing his head to people he didn't know was like a cold shower, a public humiliation. He felt naked. He felt nauseous, he felt itchy all over.

They arrived at the station in a short amount of time, because Sicheng and Taeyong had known they would feel terrible around people. Taeyong looked way worse than him, face wane and sweaty, eyes shining with fever. This fever turned into something ominously dangerous when he set a foot in the station. Sicheng looked at his whole body tensed, suddenly unmoving. He frowned as he watched the two policemen escorting Taeyong stumble over the still boy. Then the older bare his teeth, curling his back like a wild cat, and Sicheng followed his line of vision.

There, over the automatic glass doors was seated Jungwoo, face deconstructed under exhaustion and sickness, and behind him, Lucas. The Chinese boy spotted Taeyong immediately and rose up from his chair where he was talking with an officer. A man came right behind to sit him back, but his muscles were tensed and he didn't bulge. At this point, Taeyong would have broken down the glass door and jumped on the desks to get at Lucas' throat. But the men around the leader held good and restrained him on the floor.

“Don't let him bite his tongue !” One of them said while butting a piece of cloth in Taeyong's growling mouth.

Injures were falling off his pretty lips, threats and violence and blood oozing like clear water and Sicheng couldn't stand that he was so used to it, and that he talked all the same. But then the violence changed of target, Taeyong's betrayed eyes fell on Sicheng, and the words kept on pouring.

Sicheng bare his teeth as well because it's all he knew, it was the language he spoke, and so his nails made bloody crescents on his cuffed hands.

The policemen kept them and listened to them still because they knew they owed NCT. How many cop upgraded thanks to them ? Catching one was a professional reward, and they'd been caught more than once. They'd just always found their way back.

“What is your way back Sicheng ?” Lee Sooman said when he was placed in one of the interrogation room with the commandant.

“You should go with Taeyong.” Sicheng winced at his raspy voice.

“I'll go see him when he calmed himself a little bit. Now, I'm taking to you, about you.”

“I'm here for the group.”

“I'm not talking to the group today. I'm talking to you.”

“I'm the group.”

Sooman considered Sicheng a moment before reclining against the back rest of his chair. There was no anger in his eyes, he was just tired and a bit paternal.

“Then, what does the group want ?” he asked with his bushy eyebrows raised.

“ The pricks're on us.”

“So you need help.”

Sicheng ticked, his lip lifting just barely so the light hit on one of his teeth before falling back in a straight line.

“This is your chance.”

“You'll have to explain yourself a bit longer.”

“They did.” Sicheng bite back without some kind of heat.

There was another silence where Sooman made a black pen turn in his fingers. The younger desperately wanted a smoke, but his cigarettes butts, all carefully stored in a flat pad's pocket box was in a cardboard in one of the other storage room.

“Wong Yukhei and Kim Jungwoo right ?”

Sicheng didn't know Jungwoo's name was Kim, and it is the only piece of information that he caught, face expressionless as ever.

“It's true, they talked. This Yukhei boy especially knows what he wants. But I guess you don't go that far when you wonder around every corner.”

Another silence.

“The more I see you and the less you talk” he sighed.

“The pricks.” Sicheng reminded softly with his low voice.

“Kwon Jiyong ?”

Sicheng nodded yes, big eyes starring at the older.

“He was already a pain when Taeyong was around him. Did he talk about that with you ?”

“I don't really care” the younger almost shrugged, and Sooman didn't push the matter.

They talked for a bit, the policeman more than the boy, and finally he left to talk with Taeyong.

“Do you want to eat something, son ?” he asked before closing the door.

“Water.. please”

“Boys your age should eat. Not hungry ?”

“Only every three day.” Sicheng said truthfully, looking through the tainted window, trying to map a way out.

Sooman exited, on his face something between pity and desperation.

 

*

 

“You'll sleep here for the night. We'll get everything ready once we are sure Jiyong's crew will attack.” a cop said.

“They will.” Lucas affirmed, holding Jungwoo by the shoulder like a lifeguard.

“Whatever. One of the social worker representative arrived and will talk to Kim Jungwoo around the morning, then have a word with Wong Yukhei. Is that clear ?”

The four boys nodded yes. Sicheng was on the defensive, not listening to what the man was saying, too busy to make sure that Taeyong would not jump at Lucas' throat. But the leader was strangely calm and unmoving. They were also allowed to give a phone call to their parents or tutors, and only Yukhei asked for some food, the others too nauseous to consider anything.

Eventually, Sicheng was brought to a different room with a phone and a man standing next to the door. The number had already been dialed and when he picked the phone, his mother's voice rang :

“ _Sicheng ?”_

“Yes” he croaked in a breathe before coughing up to clear his throat.

“ _They said you'd turned yourself in. They said you would surrender.”_

The voice carried through the line had too much hope, but Sicheng was too sleepy and too used to hopelessness to be moved by it.

“Yes” he said again, playing with the curling phone line, putting it around his fingers until the tips were flushed red.

“ _Are you going to come home then ?”_

She was no longer the desperate mother who cried to the wolf and begged for her son. She'd given up weeks ago, having as much hopes as heartbreaks. She was resigned, her son was gone somewhere in the wild, and more often than not now, her voice was just tired. She sighed a lot, like annoyed by him, because it was always the same song, and she was done cradling a boy who would sooner or later hang up and stop giving news for god knows how long. She was done listening to a boy saying he was careful and would stop and would come back when anyway he would call days and days later saying he was in a deep shit again, that he was tired, that he couldn't stand it, but wouldn't come back. It was endless, and he would never get better. That's what she'd accepted. She'd even been as far as considering that maybe, somewhere, he just wanted to die. She couldn't accept it yet, but it was a thought that was lingering, coming back every now and then, just to remind her that love cannot save everyone.

But this time it was different. This time, it was not just words thrown in the middle of the night. He was in a police station, and he had not been caught. He'd _surrendered_. There, there she could hope.

“ _Is it to punish me ?”_

Sicheng was a bit taken aback, so he stayed silent.

“ _Is it something I did ? Is it because of your father and I's divorce ?”_

Self consciousness, shyness, whatever it was, was not something Sicheng had experienced in a while. And yet, there in this little room, hearing his mother referring to her divorce when another man was standing at hear shot, the boy couldn't help but feel the warmth of shame spread on his nape. He felt terrible once again, and wanted to hang up right then and there. He looked at the phone awkwardly, holding it closer to his hear :

“ _Why don't you answer ? Why don't you ever answer ?”_

Sicheng swallowed up, thrown miles out of his comfort zone :

“I have nothing to say” he muttered finally, voice lower if possible, gravely. “I'll see you soon.”

“ _Okay… Okay baby, take care.”_

He put the phone back on its sole, having to try twice before clicking it right.

“I'm… I'm done” He coughed.

The policeman nodded and moved closer to let him out. He was asked once again if he wanted to eat and after he refused, was brought to a different room. This time, the policeman stayed outside, and he was invited to get in by himself.

“Oh. Sicheng right ? Come in boy.”

Sicheng didn't make a move to get in, but the woman inside just waved at him and the door closed behind the flat of his back.

“Sit down, sit down” She chirped, pushing forward a glass or orange juice and a plate of snacks.

She had before herself a few files that she didn't look at, probably Lucas' and Jungwoo's. She also had an empty block and a pen. She put her glasses on the table and looked at him with the piercing gaze of a little bird. Sicheng wanted to crawl away.

“Do you know who I am ?”

He shrugged no.

“I'm a member of a juvenile center. I help young people like you to get back on their feet.”

“I'm on my feet.”

“I don't doubt that. I trust that you can do right, and that you are doing everything you can to make things right. I trust you on this, so I'll need for you to trust me as well.”

Sicheng didn't reply, but it didn't phase her the least. Probably that she was used to it.

“For things to get easier, I'd like for you to call me by my name okay ? No titles, no honorifics, no blabla. It's just me, and you. Now, what can I do to make you feel more comfortable as well ?”

The boy didn't think to much :

“Can I smoke ?”

She blinked a few time, then she pressed a button and asked for a cigarette in the mic.

“You're a social worker.” Sicheng said again when he lit his cigarette.

“I'm a friendly hand.”

He looked at her hand, then back at her eyes, tried to imagine he was a Dreamie and that he needed this hand in his life. He needed this hand in his life.

“Would you like to talk about things you like ?”

Sicheng was a bit taken aback, hopefully, his face was too set in the marble to move to much. Only the stutter gave him away, and so he just gestured no with his face.

“There's nothing you like ? You used to dance as a kid, is that right ?”

He opened his mouth, then nodded yes.

“Traditional Chinese dance ?”

Nod yes.

“Would you show me ?”

Vigorous no.

She wrote a word down, then discarded her bloc. She looked down on the food, then a smile lit her face and she took the plate in her hand :

“Want some ?”

He took the plate not to have any other questions about it and she let him put it down. He picked up what looked like a chocolate bar and sniffed it. He took a bite, chewed twice before looking for a paper napkin, nauseated. He brought it to his mouth and spat the bite, making a crumpled ball of the napkin before putting it next to him on the table.

“Are you okay ?” she inquired, clearly a bit surprised.

He nodded yes again. He always said yes.

“I'm not going to ask about life outside for the moment. This is probably not what you want to talk about, and I'm not here to push a button that doesn't have to be pushed. I need to be sure that you want to work with _us_ , so I can report it to the tribunal that will work with _me_. Okay ?”

“-Kay.” he coughed.

“Drink a bit, drink boy. Okay… Do you mind if I record what you are about to say ?”

He said no with his finger, drinking a bit of juice. This time his stomach accepted.

She took out a little recorder and started asking questions about what he used to do at uni, if he was playing any sports in clubs, if there was any friend he could reach back. He had to answer vocally for the sake of the recording, but he made his sentences as short as possible, each word like sand itching his skin. She asked about his aspirations, a rehab to take, a center to get in to work with doctors and specialists. He had to talk about his relation with his mother as well, and more often than not she wrote instructions for him on the bloc such as “seem convincing” “talk about your dancing ability” “say you made researches on drug centers” “show you're close to your mother”. He felt like his voice was robotic and his answers unnatural, but no one had heard his real voice anyway, so it's not like they could have told.

“What are your motivations to work with us Sicheng ? Do you understand how much this decision will change your like – for the better ? It will be difficult, but I need to be sure that you accept to listen to our instructions and let go of the life you lived so far.”

There was a long silence, where Sicheng just stared at his hands. His skin was all dry in patches, and his long bony fingers where bloodied on the end where the cold had cut crevices. For the boys. For his brothers. For Taeyong. For him. He wanted it over with.

“If I don't stop, I die.”

 

*

 

He was escorted back to his little cell where Taeyong was awaiting. He felt raw all over, as if all this talking about him him him had skinned him alive, leaving him bare, naked and bleeding on the linoleum floor, and nobody cared. His nerves were on fire, so much that when the door closed behind him once again, he sat on the opposite end of Taeyong, unable to look at him, unable to be too close, or to have someone touch him or just breathe in his direction.

Taeyong looked at him for a long moment, his eyes soft, his body relaxed. It bugged Sicheng.

“It will be better now.” the older said.

In the middle of the night, when Sicheng was sleeping sitting on his bench, face in his knees, he felt a hand circle his shoulders, and a body curl next to his. He let Taeyong in by not pushing him away. He still felt itchy, but he guessed that Taeyong was feeling the same, and knowing that the older was making a step forward toward him just made Sicheng try as well. They nested like this, but Sicheng stayed closed on himself. He should have let Taeyong in. Maybe then he would have realized. Maybe he would have seen that all this time Taeyong had been too calm and resigned. Maybe he would have heard the stabbing cry Jinju had sent their way.

There's nothing he regrets more in his life than the night he forgot to let Taeyong in.

 

The operation was to start in two days, but in the morning, Taeyong was gone already. The station was in effervescence, looking for the boy who'd broken out, triggering the beginning of the operation too early, unprepared, and leaving in its wake the crumples of the boy who'd been left behind.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, in the past four days I posted four chapters. Give me an award lol. Two to three chapters left max.  
> Love, Pony.

“How could one twenty something year old **lad** could _disappear_ from this police station ?!”

The roars that rose from Lee Sooman's mouth shook and cracked the neat painting on the walls of the station. Sicheng had been woken up at the first rustle, light sleeper that he had become, immediately aware that one of _his_ was gone. The cell was deafeningly empty, the silence louder than Sicheng's heart beating in his head. He jumped on his feet, momentarily petrified by all the courses of action he could take, all the decisions colliding in his brain. He whimpered, turning on himself, his hands rising to his ears, trying to think, to breathe, to _move_. He couldn't stay there, Taeyong might be in danger. He couldn't ask for help because it would put Taeyong in danger. So he danced from one feet to the other before throwing himself at the bars of his cell, all hell broken lose :

\- Lee- Lee Sooman ! Lee Sooman ! He yelled, his vocal cords tired, his voice barely a string of sound, but the air punched out of his lungs made enough noise and soon cops turned toward him.

Sicheng had thought everyone in the building had gathered around him, then other people started yelling orders, Lee Sooman arrived and the noise kept on growing, growing, much more than Sicheng could stand.

"You see why we can't trust people like them !"

"Screwing your last chance boy !"

Fingers where pointed at him through the bars and he took a step back, frightened beyond, eyes bulged out to keep in the violence that wanted to seep, to cage the beast inside.

“We are running out of options Sicheng...” the social worker said, her mouth a thin line, her forehead marbled with wrinkles, when he'd been brought to her because they needed to inspect the cell.

All Sicheng could do was tear the plastic of the chair out with his blunt nails and dry his sweaty palms on his jeans. He understood, with the ruckus going on, that with Taeyong out, all the operation could be jeopardized. They would have to intervene as soon as possible if not today, in broad daylight, and no one was happy about that.

“You can't trust us anymore, right ?”

Sicheng couldn't remember if he ever had.

“I'm still here. I'm-” he nodded, unable to finish.

He didn't want to fuck it all up. He had fucked everything for months. Every decision, every word, every path, had been a bad idea. He was built on bad ideas. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand that he was so out of this world. He wanted to cry and scream because he couldn't even _say_ that. He didn't know how to speak anymore, and yet there were so many things inside of him that needed to get out. He knew he should talk to her, because right now she was still there, listening, and with what had happened she might not be tomorrow. He had a chance to vomit it all now, to tell everything, to sooth his aching heart of all the things he'd seen and heard and endured. He had so much to say.

“Breath Sicheng ! In and out. In and ou-… I'll need a doctor please ! Sicheng in and out, again, it's alright.”

And he opened his mouth as wide as he could, breathing in, but no air coming to his lungs. He was suffocating in his own body, because he was flooded with all the things he wanted but didn't manage to say. He ran his hands through his hair, tried to tear them out of his head, scratched at his cheeks. Taeyong was somewhere out in the wild, and he was there, stuck on his chair, his fingers coated in dirty bleached hair, but no sound came out. He had his head stuck in a concrete fishbowl and no one could help.

 

*

 

When he opened his eyes again, he was in what looked like a nursery, walls a peach color and his arm linked to a machine by a needle. Needles everywhere. He wasn't nearly as frightened as he could have been. The buzz in his head was not foreign.

“Sicheng ? Do you hear me ?”

His eyes rolled in its sockets when he tried to turn his head toward the voice. The social worker was seated next to him along a policeman and a doctor. The hand that was not perfused was cuffed to the bed, and so was his left ankle. He tried to move his leg experimentally, the clinks and clings coming to his ears only as dull sounds.

“Don't move too much, you'll hurt yourself.” the doctor said, reaching out with her head, but Sicheng shrunk away from it.

“Can you hear me Sicheng ?” the social worker asked again.

“Yes.” he said, his voice funny.

“The doctors gave you something to calm you down. You had a panic attack which triggered a respiratory depression. How do you feel ?”

“You drugged me ?” He asked, the walls turning a bit as he'd sat down on the bed. “Feels nice” he added, plugging one of his finger on the soft mattress.

He didn't listen to what the two others said to him, looking around and trying to keep some focus. Suddenly the phone rang and the social worker and the doctor said something about having to take the call. The two women left the little room to pick it up, the policeman waiting on the other side of the door, only the back of his head visible through the square glass window. He sat against the pillow, loving the feeling of something comfortable against his back. Everything could have ended there, Sicheng letting the sedative tune the world out. He could have forgotten that there was something outside and that he was a part of the outside. He could have let go of Taeyong, deeming him doomed.

But sooner or later, you have to wake up.

The feeling started to sink in when he looked up at the clock. The pointer's race started to make more and more noise, and soon he couldn't focus on anything else. The only thing that managed to make him look away was the machine next to him that had started beeping furiously. He wanted to get out. He looked toward the door but the policeman didn't bulge. He started sweating nervously, wondering where the social worker had gone.

_She said she was there to help._

_Where is she ?_

_What if she's calling more cops because of me ?_

_What if the operation gets canceled ?_

_What if they don't let me out ?_

Distrust was an ugly disease and Sicheng was carrying every symptoms. He got ride of the comforter on took the needles out of his arm as slowly as possible. Once he was unplugged, the machine stopped roaring and the silence came back, but so did the policeman.

“What are you doing ?”

Sicheng gaped like a fish, sitting back down against the pillow. He wanted to call for the social worker but he'd never learned her name. Park something.

“What is going on here ?”

“The boy is moving for no reasons.”

The social worker crossed the room and sat on her chair in front of Sicheng's bed, regardless of the fact that he'd taken his perfusion off.

“You look like a frightened deer my boy.”

Sicheng swallowed and worked all the strength that was left in his body to grip her wrinkled wrist.

“Don't leave me.”

She starred at him, eyes widened, probably not expecting for him to initiate any kind of contact :

“I'll help you for as long as you'll help yourself Sicheng.”

But he looked up to her, planted his eyes in her and then she saw, like written on his face, that it had nothing to do with the fear of being forgotten after a few weeks. It was the immediate, the urgent fear of not being watched for just a second, for if she was to let him alone just to pick up the phone he would leave again. He didn't mean to but he would leave again.

 

*

 

“The operation will start at night fall. It's the earliest we can do considering one of our prime witness just… _vanished_.”

There was pure disgust in the voice of Sooman when he took the mic in the conference room where all the people who would take part were gathered. Sicheng had a spot on the back, next to Park-something.

“For Mark. For Yuta. For Taeil. For Johnny. For Ten. For Haechan. For-”

“The name of your friends ?” Park-something asked, sitting on the plastic chair next to him.

Sicheng didn't answer but kept on whispering their names, his brothers' names.

“For Taeyong. For Winwin.”

It was easier to focus on the good he was doing rather than the anger emanating from Sooman's mouth. Sicheng had trusted him as much as he could trust someone from the outside of Jinju. It was a bit weird how _he_ was the outcast but to him it was the other people that were coming from the outside. The thing was, now that things were not falling into places like Sooman would have liked, he felt like he could finally see the commandant's true face. He was not a father to them. He just wanted the job done, and right now he was angry and he would run for Taeyong to the other side of the country.

The man had tried to talk Sicheng through, had even given him a phone stating that “if he tries to contact you, you tell me and we will go get him back.” Sicheng had taken the phone, but Taeyong had never tried to reach him. So what could the Chinese boy say ? _Wo ai ni_ were a foreign couple of words for a lot of people, but so was it becoming for Sicheng. Was it love that he had for Taeyong ? Was it love or the impulsive need to hold onto the other because he is a lifeguard and you are in the middle of a stormy sea ? He didn't know where to stand with Taeyong. He didn't know if they loved each others like he'd always dreamed they would. Love, the strongest he'd felt it was when they were in Jeju island. When they were far from there. When they weren't themselves. He'd followed Taeyong back to Seoul because he'd thought there was nowhere else to go. Because he didn't want to let go. And here he was, in the middle of an ugly field of nothingness. He didn't know if he wanted to go run after Taeyong again. He could save dozens by letting go of one. He didn't know where to stand. He'd never been so lost than right now.

“You sure you're going to do this ?” the woman asked again next to him.

He stopped saying their names over and over and looked in front of him. The world came back into focus, he saw Sooman before the light screen but he couldn't hear his words. He still didn't know what to say. That he was admitting to himself that he had no future outside, that the street would not forgive him so many times. But what could he say ? What could they hear ? Would they accept the reality that kids under the bridge live everyday ? Stuck in the gutter with a knife awaiting on top of their head ? He couldn't say that human rights are foreign or that the cruelty from within is as bad as the pressures from above, that greediness is how hopelessness speaks and that sometimes emptiness takes a bit too much space. They wouldn't understand, and he didn't know anymore how to _explain_.

So he nodded yes.

 

*

 

“What are you doing ?” he asked the doctor when she sat him on a chair in his cell.

She had a smile plastered on her face but a needle on her hand, and she was going for his arm. He protected the skin there with his other hand and backed away, voice a gurgle stuck in his throat.

“It's for you to stay calm during the trip there. Just sit down, it's a small sedative that-”

“It will knock me down ?”

“No it won't… _knock you down_ , it will calm your nerves and break any nauseous feelings you might have. We don't want you sick once you're there.”

Sicheng had ran out of speaking time for the next two hours so he closed his mouth, his teeth as tight against each other as he could.

Only when the drug was in did the social worker stepped in the room. She sat on a chair they brought for her and took Sicheng's hand in hers. He tried to take his hand back but she held good :

“Sicheng. I'll need your full attention.”

He glanced at her, refusing to face her still :

“I've been allowed to take part in the operation, _but_ I received such authorization only, and only because I stated that you couldn't be left unnoticed and that I would not let a cop take care of you. Which means we need to both make sacrifices for things to work. You understand right ?”

He nodded.

“I told them that you had the will to get out of the street, but it means that you need to stick by my side. Alright ? You'll be cuffed in the car, I tell you so you are warned. It's just the procedure.”

Sicheng agreed to all she said because soon it wouldn't matter. Soon he would have saved NCT, and he would testify for them to get a rehab. And everything would be over. Maybe he would become a hairdresser like Ten. Maybe Ten would show him. Maybe it would be their card out of jail. A reinsertion project filled lessens the risks of going back down.

So he got into the van, let a cop cuff his left hand to the left car door as he'd been allowed to stay near a window to show the way more easily. Without thinking about it, he memorized the way from the station to Jinju, and even loosened the cuff around his wrist. It was something Taeyong had taught him, to move your thumb in such way that the joint cracks softly, then the bone is not in the way anymore. Around bony wrists, there wasn't much a cuff could do. But he did it by habit and kept his eyes on the window.

“Fortis Leader, Fortis one on radio three asks for permission to get into the perimeter. Do you copy ?”

“Copy _that_ _Fortis two, Fortis one allowed, wait for further orders with Fortis three and five. Fortis four and one, follow Fortis leader and get into the perimeter. Other units on standbye.”_

“Copy.”

Just like expected, the towers surged from the ground, black teeth like he remembered them. The wave of nostalgia could have been harder, had he not been on sedatives, but still it was there, lingering, this ache in his heart, this longing for this place he'd both hated then loved. _The best moments of my life happened there_ he thought, and he also understood that his life would never be as nice as it had been between these walls.

“Is this where you lived ?” Park something inquired, and there Sicheng recognized his own past disgust for the place. Miles of nothing around complexes of concrete, no one in the streets and a human life desert in every hallways. Jinju was still a lack of everything decent, warmth, love and good human condition, but it was his home and other people would never understand. The grand supermarket that the municipality had decided to build not to rise authorities concern was as empty as always, no matter its novelty, no matter its extra green grass on the front. Now one had bought, it was just piss and shit all around. But there was adoration in Sicheng's eyes when the towers reflected in them, and Park-something stopped asking questions.

“Fortis leader, here Fortis two. Gunshots heard from the perimeter, do you copy.”

“ _Copy Fortis two. Fortis one and four engaged with targets A. Targets B are still inside the buildings and might be firing as well. Get ready for a formation 3.”_

“Heavy ammunition, copy that.”

Sicheng watched as the van circled the tower, the conversation between the speaker and the other cars slowly coming to his ears as the drugs receded. He had not expected for the pricks to be _armed_ or at least, not with guns. From afar, it was easier to see in what kind of danger he'd been all the time. They' been threatened with guns sometimes, it's true, but mostly with blades, knifes, or anything pointing. Hearing the gun shots blow in the night was another reality. It lighted the sky with empty colors, flashes of white, of yellow, and fractions of silence before a knew string of violence.

From where they were, they couldn't see anything in details, about the policemen or the pricks, if there were casualties or if the wrong side was slowly dying. What Sicheng could see anyway just froze his blood. They kept on circling the place and there he saw it, on this side of the tower, the mosaic of yellow squares, too high to be the pricks, with dancing shadows, and soon enough, the sound of different guns being fired. Sicheng stayed awstruck, mouth hanging open, eyes bulged out, unable to move. He didn't feel the hand that rested on his shoulder, or the way Park-something tried to talk to him. He should have guessed it, after thought. He should have guessed that the policemen would have called them back. The pricks would never have attacked an empty place.

Sicheng took the phone Sooman had given him out of his pocket, still deaf to the extortion around and turned it on. The screen lighted, blinding him when everything else was dark. He went to the message section that he had not even opened. It was Lucas phone, and on every contact, someone had written a message to the crew :

_Taeyong from the bastard's phone. Pricks in the area. Gather back to Jinju._

But neither Taeyong nor Lucas could have written anything when the message was sent. Sooman could have. Sooman must have. Sicheng let the phone slip out of his ice cold fingers. He looked at the cops on the front sits, guns on their knees and talking in a hurry, then he saw the social worker, her face a painting of worry, because she knew he couldn't hear her anymore, and when he looked back toward Jinju, his hand freed found the way to the door handle.


	31. Dust in the Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> last.
> 
> Love, Pony.

The wind hit his face before the screams could reach his ears. He felt like flying for a couple of seconds but when the ground came under his feet, his natural, primal instinct to run, surged like a wild animal. He hit the asphalt in a heavy thud, rolling on a few meters before stopping on the wet grass surrounding the complexes. The night was he best ally and he didn't lose time in wondering where he was before his legs found the way back to earth and he started running. There was nothing but the blood pumping in his veins and the urgency of the voices behind, belonging to the policemen still in the car trying to find him back with lamp-torches. They made like light towers in the dark, strings of white piercing the veil of the night. Sicheng went as far from them as he could, ignoring the throbbing pain that awoke in his knee where he'd collided earlier.

He looked up, trying to finger out which tower this one was, but all the windows were dark, so he kept going, jumping like a hare in the high grasses, all dry and cracking with wintery coldness. Sicheng crouched behind a concrete block and waited a minute, heart beating in his throat, making sure that no one was on his tail. But the place was empty, until the gunshots started back.

It was nothing like hearing them from afar in a bulletproof car. Sicheng had never heard so many blows, never been so close to this danger. He swallowed, sweat coating his nape and his back, before getting up and spotting Tower E with its lighted windows. From there, he believed he could see his brothers firing up on two fronts, both toward the lower levels and toward the ground, trapped like rats in a sinking ship, with nowhere to hide. He gasped, his heart stopping for a moment when a bullet plugged itself right on the corner of the wall against which he was resting. He rolled on a ball, hands to his ears, eyes shut tight, but the salvo stopped right after, probably the result of a lost bullet. He stayed there a moment, trying to stop shaking, mustering the strength to get back up on his feet. He circled the building, bent in half and a hand protecting his head when another bullet whistled in the air somewhere near him. He jumped on the ground again, throat tight with fear. He looked up in a moment of bravado and spotted a floodlight swiping the area from a nearby tower. Sicheng rolled on his back, realizing that the life jacket they'd given him was catching the light like a mirror. He would have to get rid of it to move further. He sighed desperately, thinking he wouldn't get up once again in terror, but his trembling heads found the way to the zipper and he took it down difficultly. The cold hit him immediately, but he shrugged the coat off, letting the unforgiving wind get to his skin, the humidity in the air soaking his clothes and turning them icy. The floodlight had stopped pointing toward him and was now set toward higher floors, so Sicheng count to ten as slowly as he could, his member refusing to move. Now he understood why people said that there's no greater fear than fear itself. When ten rang in his head, his leaped from his hiding place and ran with all his might. It seemed, both endless and very fast, and before he could think about it, he was turning left and jumped above the broken glass doors of the hall. The entrance was emptied due to the constant firing of the police in the middle of the place between the four towers, and so he took the stairs immediately. The first prick that he crossed scared him senseless, but quickly the body took back on its habits and he landed the first punch. Street fighting was doable. It was something Sicheng knew, and so for as long as he just had to kick and trash, he managed to set aside the fear in his brain. The second one was a bit more difficult to take down, simply because he probably was Sicheng's age or a year younger. It always surprised him to see people his age fight against him in the street. It was like a painful reminder that he'd just chosen a side a long time ago and that it had made him who he was, but that he could have been along the pricks as well. In these moments when he was dodging and punching younglings like him, he couldn't help but wonder somewhere what they were fighting for. It was difficult to separate the wrong to the right in the middle of the hurdle, with blood in your mouth and sweat in your eyes, and inevitably Sicheng would take a hit or two for overthinking. There was no use asking the other what he was fighting for, because the same question could have been thrown to his face, and he was too bad at making the first step if it wasn't to land a kick in a rib. So the only words that he ever exchanged with people his age where growl and whimpers of pain, anger, demonstrations of power and of violence, anything as long as it could make him win.

The sound of their fight was covered by the exchanged of fire outside, but the explosion that blasted the entrance one story down shook them to the core. They fell on the ground, momentarily forgetting to fight in order to run to the railing, looking down the staircase. For a few seconds, only dust was visible, but suddenly, red lights pierced the veil and the two boys jumped backward just when the first bullets flew toward them. It wasn't the moment to bicker anymore, they hurried for the stairs, trying to climb as high as possible, punching one another only when they were getting in the way.

Guns started to fire in their direction from the floor above and they both screamed :

“RAID ! COPS GOING UP !”

Like a keyword everyone would understand, the shots stopped from above and they raced to the upper floors. For a split second Sicheng thought that the common enemy would make the two gangs forget about their rivalry. It was until the wall right next to his face shook, the paint cracking like an egg shell. A silent gasp escaped his mouth when he recognized a baseball bat a few centimeters away from him. A cop's salvo saved him from having his skull bashed, making the man holding the bat retreat in a room. Sicheng took it as a cue to run down the hallway and get to the upper floors by the windows. He locked the door behind him and ran for the window, opening it to the frizzing wind that chilled him to the bone. He passed his head by the frame, making sure that he wouldn't get pierced like a strainer.

“Chenle ! Chenle are you here ! It's Winwin gege !” he screamed in Chinese

Nothing moved for a moment but then the window two floors up opened up and a mop of bleached blond hair showed up. Jisung.

“Hyung ?” The boy asked incredulous, eyes bulging out.

“How many floors are ours ?” Sicheng cut, back in Korean.

Jisung disappeared a moment, probably asking, then came back :

“We won't hold this one ! The pricks are going higher and quicker ! What is going on ?” the urgency in his voice was just to cover his terror.

“The cops blasted the entrance, probably on the whole first floor and they keep going up ! The pricks just run away from them !” Sicheng screamed back.

He stopped when a blow shook the door of the flat he was in and he retreated back, disappearing from Jisung's view. The boy called him in a yelp but Sicheng rolled on the floor, hiding behind a kitchen counter just when the door broke open. Booted feet stumbled in, gun shots heard then muffled again when the man closed the door. There was heavy breathing that Sicheng didn't recognize and a string of swear words. Sicheng clasped his hand against his mouth not to give any signs away and waited to see if the man would leave or not. He was about to leap up and jump on the man when the door crashed open once again and a shadow charged toward the prick. Jaehyun collided with the other man with a war cry, making them fall on the floor. Sicheng jumped above the counter and planted his two feet firmly in the ground when he arrived on the other side. He kicked the prick's hand, making the bat fly away, took it in his own hand and turned around in time to see Jaehyun overthrown, lying on the floor with the prick above. Sicheng didn't think twice, he held the bat strongly and swung it, the arabesque it described whistling in the air before landing right on the man's temple. The prick fell down on Jaehyun immediately, body going limp. Jaehyun threw him away and got back to his feet, running his hand through his hair in a nervous tic before nodding to Sicheng.

“You're looking for Taeyong-hyung ?”

This time, Sicheng nodded.

“Seen him in a hurry. But he's in the building. He's looking for Jiyong.”

Sicheng didn't think he became paler than he was because he somehow expected it. He nodded once again, hands moving on their own, filled with electicity and terror.

“Keep the bat Sicheng. You might need it.”

“They have guns.” Sicheng deflected.

“Less than they make believe. They're all around the windows. And one in the staircase. Way less than ten. They have ropes and bats and steal bars. So don't let anything on the floor.”

Sicheng crouched for the bat, not looking at the man passed out on the ground not far.

“Hallways must be okay for the moment. Try to get higher. Johnny and I are clearing the path, there's Yuta on the sixth helping as well.”

“Where's Taeil ?”

“Gathering everyone in safety. He'll lead everyone to the underground route. It's going to be okay.”

Sicheng hummed, remembering the cave's door that leads to the water purification center about a mile away from Jinju. There, they would just have to walk to the nearest bus stop or crawl in the subway station. Indeed, everything would be fine.

“So what's left to do ?” Sicheng inquired, voice gruffy with disuse but still gentile to Jaehyun.

“Taeil finishes gathering everyone, we finish making a safe way down and you go bring Taeyong-hyung back.”

“Don't wait for us. Once the first batch is ready to leave, you let them leave.” Sicheng acquiesced, going for the door.

“Don't stay here.” Jaehyun replied, looking him seriously.

Sicheng turned back toward the elder and tried to seem as truthful as he was :

“We won't.”

With that, they disappeared in the hallway in two different directions. Sicheng ran up his way to the stairs and almost cracked Jeno's neck when he saw his shadow on the wall. The boy hugged him tight in desperation, his fingers trembling but his stare hard. He just had a few bruises and a cut on the forehead, but nothing bad. Sicheng untangled himself from the younger :

“Are all the dreamies with Taeil-hyung ?”

Jeno was about to answer when a blow shook the whole building, making them fall on their knees.

“What's going on ?!” The boy whimpered, fear finally settling on his features when dust started to fall from the ceiling.

Sicheng wanted to say that he didn't know, but the words stayed stuck in his throat. He kept on hand around Jeno's shoulders to shield him, the other near his head in case anything would fall on them.

“Stay down okay” he murmured to Jeno because everything had fallen quiet.

He changed position, tried to rise a bit to see by a window what was going on, when suddenly an incredibly big amount of light poured through the fragile glass, and soon the deafening buzzing sound of vanes got closer to the tower. The scream didn't come from then but Sicheng had it on his lips when he saw what was coming for them :

“HELICOPTER !”

Jeno and Sicheng got up at light speed and tried to put as much distance as possible between them and the flying gun machine that was waiting just on the other side of the old walls.

“The building will hold right ?” Jeno kept on asking, his breath short.

Sicheng had no idea, and it was better not to voice that, so he pulled the boy behind him. The helicopter opened fire on the lower floors, targeting the pricks that retaliated without being able to keep up with the automatic riffles on the cops' side. Sicheng had feared for the cops to get them, now he was scared that the whole place would collapse on their head. Jinju was too old to bear such abuse. Pieces of ceiling had fallen from repeated gun blows and now the walls were vibrating with the violence of the helicopter's salvos.

The damages gave them an open view on what was going on a floor below, and Sicheng spotted Mark, crouching on the ground with a gun, looking intently at two men going his way :

“Mark ! Get the hell out of here !” Sicheng yelled.

“Hyung !” Jeno called as well, but Sicheng grabbed the boy and threw him toward the stairs.

“Don't stay here !” he instructed as hard as he could before going back to Mark “Don't do anything Mark ! Wait for me !”

But Mark was planted on the ground, fun on his hand and he held good, deaf to Sicheng's extortion. It happened like a mirage. Fires were shot on both sides and all Sicheng could do was look and scream. Well a bullet hit Mark right in the throat, the older found nothing for himself to do but hold the railing in his bleeding fingers. He didn't even realize the two men had started firing his way, one hit scraping his temple and letting it bleed. Mark had collapsed on the ground, body convulsing but growing cold. Sicheng stepped back, his vision all white from the shock, the noise, the smell of destruction all around. He put his hands around his ears and would have crouched on the floor as well, had a hand not grabbed him by the collar of his hoodie, yanking him around like a doll. A strangled cry escaped his chapped lips and he found the reflex to protect himself when the hand threw him against the wall. He immediately bounced on it, getting away from the wall in fear that it would break and make him fall. He looked up, his head bleeding a lot from both the scrapping bullet and the hit on the wall, blinding him momentarily. He still jumped on his feet, trying to avoid the bat that was coming his way. He cleared his eyes with the dirty back of his hand, smearing dirt and dust on his face, looking up to the man. He had barely ever seen him, and yet he knew it was him.

Jiyong was standing before him, a weird light in his eyes that could only explain what everyone was saying about him ; _crooked._ He seemed mad, and none of the chaos around seemed to phase him. Sicheng was hurt and pained all over, but his subconscious pushed Mark on the back of his head, only focusing on Jiyong. The man wasn't tall, but he was mean, and angry, and he had nothing to lose. He went for Sicheng with a precision the boy had never encountered, hitting hard where it hurts and backing away before he could touch him. Several hits on the head and a rib probably navigating somewhere where it shouldn't inside his chest, Sicheng found the strength to go for the stairs once again. Like a sadistic predator, Jiyong took his time to go fetch his bat and walked after Sicheng who was trying to reach the next floor, knowing he wouldn't hold a fight in the stairs. He limped on the last two steps and tried to find a flat to baricade himself in but Jiyong was done waiting and he kicked him on the back. Sicheng held himself with his hands not to smash his head against the linoleum and rolled on the left, avoiding the bat.

“Still alive Mr. Winwin ?” Jiyong asked and Sicheng managed to be surprised by the high tonality of his voice.

He walked on all four, reaching a steal bar, and was about to block the bat's blow when Jiyong went flying through an open door. Taeyong surged from the cloud of dust, face shining with sweat, spotted with dirt and coated in blood. He had a black eye and a bursted lip, but he was still the radiant boy Sicheng knew, all hope coming back inside of him when he saw the older helping him get back to his feet :

“Taeil-hyung is evacuating the building...” Sicheng slurred, panting.

“I know. We take care of this bitch first.” Taeyong replied, voice hard, eyes mad beyond limits.

“Mark...” Sicheng coughed, but Taeyong shook his head to stop him.

“Jaemin. Yuta. Johnny.”

The information sank in like a stone in a lake. But Sicheng's mind was gone already, far protected in a place where what was going on here couldn't reach him. It was the same for Taeyong, working on autopilot despite the bruises and the hurt and the loss.

“Taeil is going down by the south staircase.”

“Higher then.”

They would lead Jiyong as high as possible, cut him from his people still under the fire of the helicopter.

“Somebody need to take that shit down” Taeyong growled, looking by a hole in the wall the helicopter still flying higher, making the foundations crack.

“Keep going” Sicheng replied hardly, pulling the other man by the elbow, the two climbing difficultly.

Eventually, Jiyong would have caught them. Sicheng knew it. Still, when a hand caught his lover's ankle, dragging him behind, him blood froze, his heart jumping in his throat and he kicked backward as much as he could without letting go of Taeyong. That's how they ended up fist fighting in the middle of the stairs like he'd feared they would, but this time they were two against one. They found some strength back and they finally managed to reach two floors up.

“You can't climb forever Taeyongie.”

Sicheng growled, his impulse going overboard with _mine mine mine_ and a violence twice as strong going back to his arms. He went back, going for Jiyong himself and threw the hardest uppercut he'd ever given, Jiyong's jaw cracking in a wet noise. Sicheng stumbled on top of him, the force of the blow dragging him forward. Taeyong came back just in time and kicked Jiyong again before being thrown to the floor in a loud thud, hips first. A pained shout escaped him but Jiyong punched him in the stomach, catching Sicheng by the throat before the younger could come to protect his lover. He received a blow in the temple that was already bleeding, spotting his vision with black dots and the noise completely leaving his ears.

He didn't realized Taeyong had got back up and jumped on Jiyong's shoulders, making him lose balance and let go of Sicheng's throat. The Chinese boy heaved on the floor, face flushed an ugly purplish red, veins throbbing all around. The linoleum seemed to have literally exploded and from the tiny whole it had pierced through the concrete, Sicheng spotted cops climbing the stairs. They'd probably been warned that they were still there, because almost right after, the floodlight swiped their floor, the light getting inside every window and blinding them. But they couldn't stop fighting. So they took blows and gave back, eyes closed and jaw tight. The helicopter was visible now, right at their level, guns ready to fire and men shouting at them with their speakers. Sicheng couldn't hear a thing but the long whistling of pain in both his ears. The guns started firing on the side of the flat where they weren't, just to warn them, scare them, stop them, they didn't know, but it gave them the opportunity to immobilize Jiyong.

“The rope !” Taeyong screamed, but Taeyong could only catch the wires that had been dislocated from the inside of the wall.

He didn't think twice, the grabbed them surely and passed them around Jiyong's neck, then he tightened the grip. Like a rabbit he thought. Jiyong started wriggling in all sides, his legs kicking, which Taeyong blocked on the floor when he managed to get out from under the oldest. Sicheng pulled the wires as hard as he could, bending backward until his back touched the wall on the other side of which the helicopter was waiting. He held his breath as well, and when the door to the flat bursted open, cops flooding the place, all covered in black bulletproof armors, helmets and guns, he let go of everything and fell on the floor. It was over he thought. _Over over over over_

“HANDS UP !”

“DON'T MOVE !”

“WEAPONS DOWN !”

Sicheng stayed on the ground, heaving for air, his vision still unfocused and hearing them by scraps of sounds that his ears could hardly handle. He looked at the ceiling, the first lights piercing through. It would be a good day. The sky was clear and the luminosity peaked from the blasted windows. A part of the wall had collapsed and the winter air had gotten inside the place, but Sicheng had not felt it until now. He couldn't feel his body, so he didn't protest when hands caught him by the shoulders, dragging him on the floor toward the cops. Probably the unit he'd been with in the van, finally getting him back.

“Taeyong” he murmured, unable to rise his arm but making grabby hands for his lover.

He sat despite the people around trying to get him to stay down, but he couldn't make out their words anyway. He pushed their hands awkwardly and looked at Taeyong, on his knees a few feet away from Jiyong's struggling form. He was still alive, his face dark and his lungs crying, but alive.

“Taeyong...” he breathed out, no noise made but all the intention in.

Taeyong looked at him, bathing in the winter morning sun, his face tired and puffed from all kicks, but his eyes suddenly peaceful. His shoulders were not tensed anymore, and if Sicheng had seen better, maybe he would have seen a soft smile edging on the corner of his lips.

_Over over over._

Jiyong suddenly coughed behind them, and the cops made a half circle to corner them. The pricks' leader heaved, his voice a disaster of notes in Sicheng's ears, and he tried to get up. Sicheng looked at him, not even able to feel anything anymore at the sight of this man.

Then, out of nowhere, Taeyong rose to his feet. Sicheng looked at him, a bit confused, a bit passed out, as the older turned toward Jiyong. But it was over. It was over Sicheng thought. Yet, Taeyong walked toward the lying form of Jiyong and bent forward, grabbing him by his jacket and lifting him by sheer power of will, his arms trembling and Jiyong starting to protest. Sicheng got up to his feet as well, unable to believe what he was witnessing. The cops had stopped looking at him, now turning toward Taeyong, half confused half uncomfortable, not knowing whether to intervene or to see what he was doing.

“Taeyong...” Sicheng repeated, a bit louder this time, because something in him felt bad. “Taeyong !”

The older had managed to lift Jiyong against the wall and was now maneuvering to slide toward the window. Jiyong understood first what Taeyong was trying to do, and the words that couldn't escape his broken throat just went out in panicked gurgles. Sicheng kept on repeating Taeyong's name, now fully on his feet, moving forward. The cops had taken their guns back and were starting to throw orders toward Taeyong :

“Lee Taeyong, stop moving !”

“Let him go !”

“Get away from this window !”

“STOP !”

“DON'T MAKE US SHOOT YOU DOWN.”

The shouts were growing louder and louder, but Taeyong just kept going, pushing and pushing. The ruckus of voices flooded Sicheng, his blood gone, his body tensed, reaching forward toward Taeyong. His lover, in a terrible cry, lifted Jiyong and made his body topple over the broken frame of the window. Sicheng felt all the tension fall back when he saw Taeyong turn back toward him, exhaustion on his features, but there he was sure, was blooming a smile.

It lasted a fraction of second. The moment after, the deafening bang of a gunshot boomed through the place and Taeyong's head was thrown backward, his body finding a second of balance before the impact of the bullet pushed him through the window.

The wet crack of his bones splashing on the ground ten stories down echoed in the empty hallways toward them. Where he'd stood just a second before, the light was pouring, peaceful and soothing and the last particles of dirt that had saturated the place edged away, like dust in the wind.

 


	32. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have little connexion so I'm posting the epilogue kickly. i'll reply to all the comments on my last chapter this afternoon when I hopefully have more connexion ! I read them and I love you a lot for saying such nice things !! [EDIT] Internet is back and I replied to yall !  
> Love, Pony.

Sicheng's breathing was even. Everything seemed to burst around him, people running around, phone ringing, doors opening and closing. Sicheng was sitting and perfectly calm. He did not know where he was or what he was doing there, but it almost seemed fine. Nothing had happened today. What had happened today ? Honestly, the thought almost made him frown. But he couldn't frown. It made him want to frown even more. It's as if the skin above his eyebrows had shrank and couldn't be moved anymore.

Mark was nowhere in sight, but Sicheng couldn't remember why he was not looking for him. He wasn't looking for him. Nothing had happened today.

The cop that sat in front of him eyed the dried blood on his forehead, leaking down his temples, his dirt covered skin and the bruises under his eyes. Sicheng didn't understand why he seemed so concerned. The boy was just missing someone and waiting for him to be brought to the police station as well. Taeyong's empty silhouette was filled with questions.

 

*

 

“I feel as old as you.”

 

*

 

Sicheng won his trial. They saw on the guilty's box the vestige of a boy, so hollow, so ancient and covered in dust they were expecting him to cough fallen cities. Or tell tales of how life is outside, just under their nose and still so far. With the help of social workers, the medias relaying the story and the lack of evidences concerning all the crimes they committed, the legal boys who had been caught only purged a few months in jails in different prisons of the country. Ten was sent back to Thailand, the surviving part of the China Line, in China, and a delegation brought Yuta's body back to his family in Japan. No one asked for Chenle's body, so they cremated it and the urn went to Jisung. The dreamies caught in various subway stations the days following surrendered when they learned about Taeyong's death and got sent to juvie. Sicheng doesn't know what happened to Yukhei and Jungwoo, or if they made it. Taeil did, with the little he helped escape. That's all that mattered. 

 

*

 

Jaemin, Yuta, Johnny, Chenle, Kun, Mark and Doyoung.

 

*

 

Sicheng followed a rehab program to get rid of all substances in his body and one day, on a parlor, his mom said he was to go back home. She waited for him before the wired gates, standing tall next to the location car she'd taken to bring him back to Jeju. They took the plane and Sicheng buzzed himself with his medicines, sleeping heavily and dreamlessly through the whole trip.

MeiLing stayed silent because it was long since the last time his son had said a word. She let herself cry right next to him because he wouldn't hear her anyway, and she was not sure he would ever again. People around couldn't understand. There were orphans, there were widows. There were names for people who lost relatives because it was understandable to lose them. Maybe that's why there were no words for MeiLing, because what she had lost was inconceivable. How do you call a mother who lost her child ? There were no words for her. No words.

 

*

 

A year passed in Seongsan Eup. Sicheng didn't come back to school. He didn't look the letters that were sent his way from juvies he'd never heard about. He was in the house near the sea, and more often than not, he sat on the rocking chair and look at the waves. He couldn't go out alone anymore. He couldn't speak to someone, ask something to an adult, or just take the subway or reach a city. There were days where he could barely smoke. So he just sat on the rocking chair, on the far left side to leave some room for someone else. Sometimes he let the door of his room open at night. Maybe someone would slip in. One day, he bought donuts like the one he had in Seoul's underground subways and brought them to the beach to eat some. He sat on the sand, opened the box, and the sight of the food threw his mind in a spiral of panic. He screamed in his bowled fists and vomited not far away. There wasn't a place in this world where he didn't remember him. So he always crawled away, like a worm from a bird.

 

*

 

Despite only eating half of his dishes everyday, Sicheng went back from 48 kilos to a healthier 59, finding balance in his weight after a few episodes of bulimia where he would just eat everything that was at reach to feel the void inside of him. Two trips to the hospital for a stomach cleansing and warnings from the judges and here he was at 24 years old, separating his food in half and eating at a slow pace, like everything he did :

“It's for him.” he would murmur if his mom was to ask.

Sicheng thought that it scared her even more when he talked. Because it reminded her that he was there, somewhere, stuck in this body, half his son and half someone. That he was conscious, that he was aware of her around, that he _could_ react. That he still _could_.

He also knew she wouldn't survive him leaving again. The thing is, he still had nowhere to go, like before. It's just that there was no one outside waiting for him. _There was no one left in this free world to understand him._

 

*

 

“I want to go to the beach.” he said lowly one late afternoon when his mother came back from the market, checking that he was still in the house.

“Of course Sicheng… Don't come back too late, the sky is already darkening.”

It was a pleasant early spring evening when Sicheng arrived to the beach where he'd been with him. Like before, there wasn't anyone around, and so he sat on the sand and looked at the waves crashing. He closed his eyes and listened to the wild, the wind blowing above the immensity of water, the pecs of sands flying around. He didn't think about it. He got up, lids still heavy with something that wasn't sleep yet. That's when he saw it. The sky turning from black to a softer purple, and soon, the promise of the sun that would rise back. Sicheng's eyes opened bigger than they ever had. He starred at this sky, at this soon to be new beginning, and something spread in his body, warmer than any light. The water licking at his boots, or wetting his pants, or weighing him down when he walked in the sea waist deep couldn't chill him up. His sun had been gone for so long, he couldn't remember the last time he hadn't lived in the night. It had always been the night. For the past four years. Endless night. And here he was, older than Taeyong would ever be, reaching with his hands toward the sky, trying to remember how it was, when the sun was there, longing for a sky he'd forgotten. He twirled around in the waves, let the water numb all the sounds around him, let the salted water make his eyes cry for other reasons than pain and hurt and loneliness. For the first time again, he swore he heard his sun's voice.

“Come now, dawn has arrived.”

He opened his mouth, a smile blooming on his face, the first lights bathing him in gold.

 

And he drowned.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you endlessly for reading until the end. I hoped you liked this story despite all the things the characters went through and my poor decisions of posting things at two am and never beta myself. I will proof read one day, I swear.  
> Anyway, I had not written a story in years, and never in English, so this story is like an accomplishment to me and I'm happy I shared that with you. The story also had a pinterest board, link is at the beginning of the Prologue :')  
> Don't hesitate to leave a comment, say hi for the last time and tell me if you liked it, I would like this very much.  
> Thank you again and maybe see you soon.  
> Love, Pony.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading so far ! Please leave a kudo, it doesn't even take time, and if you feel like it, leave a little comment or subscribe if you want to read more. It would warm my heart very much !  
> Love, Pony.


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